


Alias Wayne & Kent

by phoenixnz



Category: Batman (Nolanverse) - Fandom, Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 84,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixnz/pseuds/phoenixnz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Clark are outlaws offered pardons if they work for the Governor against the members of their gang. While they're at it, they hope to learn the truth about their respective pasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Art by ctbn60

Bruce Wayne sat astride his horse, sweat pouring down his face from beneath the brim of his hat. The black stallion shifted uneasily and Bruce patted his flank to calm him.

He glanced at his companion, sitting on the grey beside him. Clark looked almost as nervous, although Bruce couldn’t tell much from the kerchief covering his nose and mouth.

“Sure you wanna do this?” Clark asked anxiously.

“Getting a little nervous there, Kid? Don’t know what you have to worry about, since you can’t get hurt.”

“Not the point,” Clark replied. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

“That’s your imagination, Kid.”

“I’m telling you, Batman, I don’t like it.”

“Lefty claimed this was gonna be our best haul yet. Has he ever put us wrong?”

“Hmm, let me think. Last winter.”

Bruce frowned at his partner. “What?”

“Don’t you remember? The Kansas City stage?”

Bruce nodded. They’d been pursued by Marshal White and had nearly been caught. The only reason they had made it out in the first place was due to Clark’s superhuman speed.

“That wasn’t his fault,” Bruce told him reasonably. “It was Harley. She did a deal with the marshal to get Jack out of jail.”

The kid looked dubious, shifting uneasily on his horse. Bruce lifted his head, squinting up at the sun.

“Almost noon,” he said. “Train should be due any minute.”

“Guess we should get moving,” Clark said.

“Got the supplies?”

Clark nodded, tapping the saddlebag. Bruce adjusted his kerchief over his nose and mouth and kicked his horse.

“Let’s go,” he told his partner, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth.

He heard Clark’s horse snort and follow his own down the hill toward the trail of steam in the distance. His timing had been right on the money, he thought. Kicking his horse into a run, Bruce galloped alongside the train, grabbing the ladder on the caboose and swung off his horse, scrambling aboard and up onto the roof of the next carriage, taking his Smith & Wesson from his holster as he did so.

Clark watched as his partner clambered over the train, running over the boxcars and scrambling down to the engine. He could imagine Bruce pointing the gun at the driver, telling him to stop the train. His partner-in-crime was always careful to maintain an air of confidence, hoping the gun would be enough to intimidate the driver into following orders.

The train came to a halt with a screech of brakes, sparks flying from underneath where the wheels scraped along the rails. As soon as the locomotive came fully to a stop, Clark reined in his horse and jumped off, gun in hand, running up to the engine to join his partner.

The engine driver had his hands in the air.

“Where is it old man?” Bruce was growling, waving his gun threateningly.

“In ... in there,” the man stammered, pointing to a closed car two cars behind the tender.

“Get off the train,” Clark told him.

The man did so without a murmur, clearly relieved he hadn’t been shot for his trouble. Kid Kent and Dark Knight Wayne, aka ‘Batman’ had reputations for being tough talking, but they hadn’t killed anyone yet and wouldn’t do so unless it was a last resort. Neither one of them liked hurting anyone who didn’t deserve it.

Clark followed Bruce down to the car, breaking the lock and standing back as his partner moved to slide open the door. He frowned, using his special vision to try to see through the door but somehow it was blocked. Clark hesitated. Something didn’t feel right. The bad feeling he’d had earlier intensified.

“Batman,” he began, careful to use his friend’s ‘outlaw’ name. It was already too late. Bruce had opened the door. Immediately they were surrounded by four men who had jumped down from the car where they had clearly been hiding, guns in hand. Clark quickly realised they were lawmen, seeing the star badges on their leather waistcoats.

“Well, look at what we got here, boys,” the first man said. “Wayne and Kent.”

Clark moved an inch as if to pull his friend away but the man quickly grabbed Bruce, one arm around his neck, the muzzle of his gun underneath his jaw.

“One move, Kent, and your partner here gets a mouthful of iron. We know you’re fast Kid, but I doubt even you could stop a bullet this close. The governor would like a word with you two.”

“What if we don’t want to talk to him,” Bruce answered, his glare full of defiance.

“You’re a tough guy, ain’t ya?” the marshal replied. He grinned, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth and what appeared to be tobacco stuck in between. He spat a glob of it on the ground near Clark’s feet. “Think you need a lesson in manners, boy.” His grin widened. “Shame the governor left orders to leave that pretty face unmarked. Still, he ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout the rest of you.”

Bruce doubled over, gasping as a second marshal followed up his words with a sharp punch to the gut.

Again, Clark moved to help his friend but was stopped by the marshal holding Bruce digging the muzzle of his gun further into Bruce’s jaw. Bruce looked at him and stopped him with a tiny shake of his head.

Reluctantly Clark stood quietly, waiting as his gun was taken from him and got on his horse as ordered. The four men had their own horses waiting in another car and in turn mounted them, two leading with the other two behind making sure Clark and Bruce didn’t try to escape.

Clark considered it. The marshals hadn’t even bothered to cuff them which seemed a little odd. Bruce, however, just looked at him and again shook his head, whispering that they should see what was up before they made any sudden moves. The last thing Clark wanted to do was test the trigger-happy lawmen.

Four hours of silent riding in the hot sun and they were dirty and tired. They’d been allowed two breaks so their horses could drink but other than that the marshals didn’t speak to them. Clark was relieved when they reached the township of Granville, a small Kansas town about fifty miles west of the town Clark had grown up in.

The marshal who had punched Bruce pointed to a hitching post outside the hotel and both Clark and Bruce got off their horses, tying them up and following the marshal inside the hotel.

A man stood at the desk, nodding at the lawmen. He raised an eyebrow at the two outlaws but said nothing.  
The lawman led them up the stairs and knocked on the door of room four.

“Enter,” a voice called from within.

Bruce’s lips thinned as he entered to see a man sitting casually in the armchair, smoking a pipe. Governor Jim Gordon was medium height, with a stocky build. His eyes behind his gold wire-rimmed glasses were kind and he had a face that people just seemed to trust. If there was one thing Bruce knew about the governor, it was that he was a decent man, and an honest one.

“Sit down, gentlemen,” he said softly, smiling broadly. “No need to stand on ceremony.”

Bruce frowned, wondering why the older man was being so convivial. He watched as the man struck a match on the table and re-lit his pipe, watching them over the rims of his glasses.

The marshal standing behind him placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit on the couch. Another marshal did the same to Clark. To Bruce’s surprise, the lawmen left the room.

“Governor,” he began.

“Let’s not waste time with small talk, Wayne,” the man answered. “I know everything I need to know about the two of you.”

Clark scowled at him, but Gordon seemed unconcerned.

“What is it you want?” Bruce asked.

“Why don’t we start with the truth, hmm? Like why you joined the Luthor gang.”

“We didn’t exactly join ...”

Gordon smiled at him, puffing gently on his pipe.

“Alexander ‘Lefty’ Luthor is rather a unique case, don’t you agree?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Of course not,” the man said, waving his hand. “Then again, I wouldn’t put too much stock in anything Luthor tells you.”

“You set us up?” Clark accused.

“My dear boy, how could you even suggest such a thing?” the governor asked, raising his eyebrows in pretended innocence, but Bruce saw the twinkle in his eyes.

He thought back to the message he’d received from Luthor, telling him about the supposed haul from the train. Luthor never revealed his secrets but Bruce was sure the man had spies everywhere, telling him when trains carrying large loads were due. It stood to reason that the governor would spread a rumour knowing Luthor would send his ‘best men’ to rob the load.

“Why don’t you tell us why we’re really here,” Bruce prompted.

“Of course, of course. I want you to work for me.”

“What?” Clark began to rise to his feet, but Bruce stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I want the two of you to work for me,” Gordon repeated. “For one year.”

“Why should we do that?” Bruce asked.

“After one year, if you can both keep out of trouble, I will grant you both pardons. If you refuse, well ...”

Bruce knew what the man was implying. If they didn’t work for the governor, they could face life imprisonment. He considered this for a while.

“Let’s say we do work for you. What exactly do you want us to do?”

“I want you to get me Luthor.”

Clark huffed. “We’re not gonna turn on ... He’s our friend.”

“Is he?”

Bruce frowned at the man.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think it a coincidence that Luthor, or his old man, rather, befriended you both at the very moment tragedy struck?”

Bruce’s frown deepened. He had lost his parents years ago when they had been gunned down in the streets of Gotham. No one had ever discovered the identity of their killer. He’d been ten years old. Bruce had been born into wealth, his father having inherited the Wayne family riches, but he had no idea what had happened to the money. Left alone and to fend for himself on the streets, he’d been taken in by Lionel Luthor after he’d tried to steal from the man, thinking him a rich target.

He’d very quickly learned that Lionel, along with his son Alexander, was the leader of a gang of bank robbers which included a man named Morgan Edge and another named Carmine Falcone.

Lionel had taught him everything he knew about the ‘trade’. To avoid the lawmen constantly following their trail, they had moved west. A few years ago, in Kansas, Lionel had found a young boy whose parents had been killed in a farming accident and also taken him in, teaching him the same as he had taught Bruce.

Lionel was dead, having been killed in a shootout two years ago.

Bruce sighed. If what Gordon was telling him was true, then Lex probably knew what had really happened to both his and Clark’s parents.

“All right,” he said. “I don’t think we have much choice. We’ll work for you.”

Gordon rose from the chair and went over to the desk at the window, taking two sheets of paper. He returned, handing them over. Clark peered at it, frowning.

“What’s this?”

“Can’t you read, boy?” Gordon asked.

Bruce took his own paper. Clark had never learned to read as a child and he stubbornly refused to now, saying he’d never need it.

“It grants us amnesty,” he told his partner.

“What’s amnesty?”

“It means we can’t be put in jail for anything we did before now.”

“I warn you though, to beware of Marshal White.”

Bruce snorted at the governor. Marshal Perry White had been gunning for them for years and he’d ignore any orders from the governor.

“We plan to,” Bruce answered.

“Good. Now, if you need to contact me, you can send a telegram to my office.”

Bruce and Clark found themselves summarily dismissed a short time later, thrust out the door into the hallway. Clark frowned at him.

“So what now?” he asked.

“Now, we figure out how we give the governor what he wants.”


	2. Widow James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark stay the night with the widow James, but Marshal White isn't far behind.

Bruce figured there was no point in trying to run to another town, or even to Smallville. Their horses needed to be fed and watered after their long day of riding and the best thing they could do was find a place to bed down for the night. 

The governor had promised them a salary of roughly fifty dollars a month each while they were working for him and their expenses mostly had to come out of that. Bruce knew they couldn’t afford to stay in hotels, unless they supplemented their income. There was always gambling, he thought, and playing poker was a good way of learning the activities of their fellow outlaws.

“Come on, Kid,” he said. “We need to find a place to bed down for the night.”

Clark followed him reluctantly. Bruce knew his friend didn’t trust the word of the governor, but then again, Clark tended to trust what he could see and hear with his own ears, rather than what was told to him second-hand. It was different when it came to Bruce. Of course, their relationship was different. Having both lost their parents at a young age, they had more in common with each other.

The hotel manager told them he was fully booked, which Bruce doubted, so they left the hotel and walked across the street to ask in the general store about a boarding house. The store’s proprietor sent them to a property about half a mile away, owned by a widow who had lost her husband in the war.

Bruce tipped his hat to the woman and gave her a friendly smile.

“Mrs James?”

“Yes indeed,” she said with a bright smile. “You boys looking for a room?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, I’m almost fully booked but I do have one room. You boys don’t mind sharing a bed, now do you?”

“No ma’am. We’ll take it.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “But I do have a few house rules mind you. There is to be no cursing in the house and leave your boots at the door. No guns either. My boarders are quiet people.”

“We understand, ma’am.”

“Good. Are you boys hungry?”

Clark grinned suddenly. He’d been looking as if the world was ending, but of course as soon as food was mentioned he brightened up.

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“Good. I like to see hearty appetites. There’ll be rabbit stew on the table as soon as you’re done washing up.” She turned and looked at the teenage boy standing in the parlour doorway. “Frank, why don’t you show these gentlemen up to the room.”

“Yes’m.”

The boy led the way up the stairs, eyeing them both suspiciously. Clark stared back at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re outlaws,” the boy whispered. “I seen your pictures. On those posters.”

“We’re not here to make trouble for your Ma,” Bruce assured him. “We just want a place to sleep for the night.”

The boy considered him for a long moment, then shrugged.

“Ain’t nowt to do with me,” he said.

By the time they had dumped their gear in the room and gone back downstairs, the stew was on the table. There were three other men boarding with the widow. Bruce assumed that with her husband gone it was the only way she could make a living.

Clark sat down at the table and began to eat the stew as if he was starving. He took a biscuit and tore it in half, then dipped it in the stew. Bruce ate a little slower, glad for the home-cooked meal. Mrs James was a good cook, or so he heard one of the other boarders saying, providing plain but hearty fare.

Clark had finished his meal and left the table, without bowing his head to their hostess to give thanks for the stew. Bruce sighed. It wasn’t so much that Clark was discourteous, he thought. He just hadn’t been taught any better.

“I’m sorry, Mrs James,” he said.

“Oh pay it no never mind, young man. I like to see a boy enjoying his supper.” She sat next to him at the table. “Your companion seems a little melancholy,” she observed.

“Yeah, Clark is ... well, he grew up not far from here. His family owned a farm. It’s gone now.”

“Oh? Where was this farm?”

“Smallville.”

“What happened to it?” she asked.

“There was an accident. His mother and father ... they passed on.”

She gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Oh my!”

Bruce frowned at her, seeing her expression. It seemed as if she knew exactly what he was talking about. He didn’t have the chance to ask her about it, however, as a man not much older than Clark came in.

“Ma?”

She got up, bustling at the stove.

“Jesse,” she smiled as the man approached and bussed her on the cheek. 

Bruce finished up the stew and left the table, nodding politely to the widow and her son, going out to join Clark on the porch.

“What is it?” he asked his partner.

“Nothin’.” He frowned into the darkness, then turned away. “I’m going up to bed. You comin’?”

“In a bit.”

Clark shrugged and went back in. Bruce stood on the porch, leaning on the railing. Voices drifted from the open window.

“I’m tellin’ you Ma, those men are dangerous.”

“Oh pish posh, they ain’t doing any harm.”

“They’re outlaws!”

“They’re boys! The young one’s barely older than Frank.”

“Ma, you’re too trusting!”

“Jesse, those that don’t know shouldn’t talk. ‘Sides, I knew that boy’s mother and father and they were good people. Oh, I remember when I first saw little Clark. He was such a dear little boy.”

“He’s not a boy now. You know they’re ...” the voice dropped and Bruce strained his ears to hear the rest. All he managed to hear was: “...queer.”

“Those that don’t know shouldn’t talk,” Jesse’s mother repeated.

Bruce heard nothing more as the voices drifted away. He decided it was a good time to join Clark upstairs.

Clark was laying on his side in the bed when Bruce entered the room. He undressed quickly, stripping down to his flannel undergarments and got in. Clark didn’t move.

“She knew your kinfolk,” Bruce told him.

“So?”

“So she might know something about what happened to them.”

“Don’t care!”

“Clark ...”

“They’re dead, Bruce. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Are you angry at me?”

“For what?”

“You tell me. You’ve been like a bear with a sore head since we left the hotel.”

Clark shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe I don’t like feelin’ like I’ve been sold up the river.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yeah, that’s what I think. When you were talkin’ with the governor it was all yessir, yessir, three bags full sir. It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“You don’t get what was going on there, Clark. It’s all right, you just weren’t brought up right.”

“Don’t patronise me!”

“Look, you heard what the governor said. It’s work for him or jail. You wouldn’t last a day in jail.”

“Yes I would. I’ve got my ... my ... you know ...”

“Your strength and speed will only get you so far, Clark. You’re just a kid.”

“I’m eighteen. And I don’t get how you can trust him.”

“Because I believe he really wants to help us.”

“Help us? We’re outlaws.”

“And now we’re deputy marshals.”

“We have to turn on our friends.”

“Who wouldn’t hesitate to turn on us.”

“Even Lex?”

“Especially Lex.”

“You really believe he knows what happened to your folks?”

“Yes, I do.”

The trouble was, even after all the years of riding with Lex and Lionel, he knew Lex would never confide the truth. He didn’t believe what happened to Clark’s kinfolk was an accident either. He had a feeling it had something to do with Clark’s strange abilities.

“Clark, you can’t tell me that deep down, you really trust Lex.”

“Well,” Clark sighed, his back still turned toward him.

Bruce recalled Clark’s earlier unease about the job Lex had sent them to do; the one which had resulted in their being set up by the governor’s men. The truth was, any one of the gang would turn on them if it meant saving their own hide.

“I guess we can’t trust anyone then,” Clark said in a small voice.

“You can trust me,” Bruce told him, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his friend’s waist. “Haven’t I always looked out for you since you were twelve?”

He could almost feel Clark smiling shyly, ducking his head.

“Yeah, you have.”

“C’mere,” Bruce coaxed, gently pulling so Clark had to roll over to face him. He put his arms around the younger man and kissed him softly. “I promise I will always look out for you. We’re in this together, you and I. Okay?”

“Okay,” his partner replied, letting Bruce pull him closer. 

As Bruce kissed him, Clark sighed softly. It wasn’t that he was mad at Bruce. He was, but only for the fact that his partner, who usually didn’t trust anyone, was suddenly so trusting of the governor. 

He thought Bruce had trusted Lex. They were friends, or so he understood. They were always talking about one thing or another and it was Lex who sent them out when he heard about jobs. For Bruce to suddenly turn around and say that Lex wasn’t to be trusted just didn’t sit right. 

He felt his companion’s cock hard against his belly and moved his hand down to cup the shaft. Bruce moaned softly, clearly conscious of the need to keep the noise down. The lady who owned the boarding house might be friendly and all, but Clark doubted even she would be so friendly if she knew he and Bruce were together in the biblical sense.

It had started when he was fifteen. Bruce was, of course, much older and more experienced but he seemed to understand Clark, more than even Lex did. Then again, they were both orphans which gave them more common ground.

He’d been riding with the gang for about three years then. After his Ma and Pa died, Lionel had taken him in, but then left him to his own devices. Bruce had been eighteen and instead of being mad about being lumbered with a twelve year old kid, he had taken Clark under his wing and taught him everything he knew.

He’d gone out on his first stage robbery when he was fourteen. He’d grown to his full height of six three then and Lionel had told him he was big enough and old enough to pull his own weight in the gang. Clark hadn’t wanted to do it but Bruce had told him it was the only way they were going to survive. He had the feeling Bruce had been pulled into it just as reluctantly.

When he was fifteen, he had gone alone with Bruce to rob a train. Something had gone wrong in the robbery and they’d been forced to run from lawmen, hiding out in some caves for the night. It had been bitterly cold that night and while Clark didn’t feel the cold as much as Bruce, he had huddled with his partner for warmth.

He remembered them laying together, arms around each other, and looking into Bruce’s eyes. Clark hadn’t known much about sex. After all, he’d been twelve when his folks had died and he had never had the ‘talk’ with his father. He had known, however, that his feelings for Bruce were more than just brotherly. He’d had a dream once where he and Bruce had been kissing and doing other stuff which he wasn’t sure about. He’d woken up to find his underwear sticky. He’d told Bruce about it, although not in so much detail and his friend had laughed and then told him it was totally normal.

Still, nothing they’d talked about could have prepared him for the night he’d looked into his friend’s eyes and seen his own longing mirrored back at him. 

Nor could it have prepared him for what happened once Bruce began touching him in places no one had ever touched him before. His eyes had begun to grow itchy and hot. Clark had pulled away from his friend, much to Bruce’s surprise and a sheet of flame had suddenly shot out of his eyes.

Clark had panicked, not knowing what had caused this sudden new ability. Bruce had managed to calm him down in the end and together they’d figured out what had caused it. Bruce hadn’t acted surprised when Clark had eventually admitted he’d been thinking about sex, or that he was the subject of Clark’s thoughts. 

Everything had changed in their relationship then. It had taken time, but they explored these new burgeoning feelings until Clark was secure enough in his ability to control his powers. They’d finally made love – Bruce preferred to call it making love – for the first time the night of Clark’s sixteenth birthday. Not that it was celebrated in the gang. Lionel didn’t choose to recognise occasions such as birthdays although Clark was still young enough that it did rankle a bit. Still, Bruce had made up for it later. 

“Hey, where’d you go?” Bruce’s voice was amused.

Clark grinned at him. “Just thinkin’,’ he answered.

“Yeah, well how about you think about this,” Bruce whispered, grinding against him so Clark could feel his hard shaft.

Clark rolled on his back so his partner could roll on top of him. He watched as the older man sucked on his fingers, keeping his gaze steady, then slowly moved his hand down to rub over Clark’s hole. 

“Bruce,” Clark panted, pushing against those fingers as they slowly entered him.

“I know,” Bruce soothed. “I know what you need.”

He felt the stretch of his muscles as Bruce thrust another finger inside. Clark squirmed until his partner stilled him, leaning over him as he rolled half on his side, withdrawing his fingers and urging Clark to bend his knees and lift his backside slightly. Clark nodded and obeyed, letting the older man lay over him as he guided himself inside.

Clark had been surprised the first time when it hadn’t hurt. He knew he was strong enough that bullets bounced off him, but he hadn’t known if that invulnerability extended elsewhere on his body. Bruce had made no comment about it and he had wondered at the time if it was the same for everyone, until he had heard one of the other men talking about it.

Most of the men in their gang preferred sex with women and it was a subject that tended to be avoided for the most part. Still, he’d learned that it did hurt. A lot. 

Clark put his arms around his lover as Bruce began to thrust inside him, grunting a little. They made few sounds beyond the occasional grunt and the noise of their bodies slapping against each other, acutely conscious of the need to keep it quiet. With the gang they tried not to make it obvious, even though Lex knew about their relationship, but not everyone was as understanding.


	3. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two outlaws manage to evade Marshal White, but Clark has difficulty accepting the situation, thinking they're selling out.

They were greeted with a friendly smile from Mrs James and a not-so-friendly glare from her eldest son as they came downstairs for breakfast.

“Good morning boys,” the widow said cheerily. “Did you sleep well?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time, ma’am,” Bruce answered.

“Wonderful. Would you both like some oatmeal?”

“Yes ma’am,” Clark answered politely.

He watched as she served them spoonfuls of oatmeal from the pan on the wood stove. They were used to a different kind of diet on the run. It was mostly beans and whatever they could steal from nearby farms. Growing up on the farm, Clark had loved the home-cured meats and fresh eggs his mother would cook for breakfast.

Thinking of his mother brought tears to his eyes and Clark tried to blink them away, but not before Bruce noticed his sudden melancholy. He looked at his partner, then dropped his gaze to the oatmeal. 

“So where are you boys headed off to?” Mrs James asked, clearly trying to make conversation.

“We’re not sure yet,” Bruce replied.

They hadn’t talked about it, but since the governor had asked them to find Lex, Clark gathered they would head back to the mountain hideout. The gang was always on the move but when it got too cold for riding they would hole up in the hideout. Lionel had always told them the mountains were a great place to get lost in, but they were also a great place for an ambush.

Clark remembered about a month before Lionel was killed, some lawmen had taken it upon themselves to try and flush them out of their hideout. Morgan Edge had been friendly with one of the lawmen who had told him of the plan, so he and Lionel had gone out to ambush the men. Lex, Bruce and Clark were ordered to stay behind. While Lex had killed a man a year or two earlier, Clark and Bruce hadn’t.

It had been a week since Lex had told them of the supposed haul from the Kansas train and it was a fairly safe assumption that Lex was long gone from where they’d last seen him.

Bruce nudged him and Clark realised the widow had been addressing him.

“I don’t mean to bring up bad times,” she was saying, “but I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about your Ma and Pa.”

Clark frowned at her. “How did you ...”

“My husband fought with Jonathan in the war,” she sighed. “He came home from the war a changed man. They all did, really. So much bloodshed. The one bright spot in your Ma and Pa’s life was when they took you in. Such a dear little boy you were. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you you were Martha and Jonathan’s boy.”

“I miss them,” Clark admitted.

“Oh, of course you do. I miss my Frank too.”

“What happened to him? Your husband?” Bruce asked.

“He took sick, poor dear. Frank Jr was only three.” She looked steadily at Clark. “Your mother and father loved you dearly. What happened to them was just such a terrible tragedy. And then, of course, we heard that dreadful man had taken you in, claiming he was an old friend of your father’s. Why, I wouldn’t have believed a word that came out of that man’s mouth. I don’t like to speak uncharitably of the dead, but that man was evil.”

Clark bit his lip. He’d known Lionel wasn’t a good man, but still, he had taken him in, given him a home.

He’d also turned both him and Bruce into outlaws, Clark reminded himself.

“You know, some would say what happened to your folks was no accident. Now I don’t necessarily believe that but I do think something was not right.”

As much as Clark didn’t want to hear about the fire that had destroyed the barn, killing both his parents, the fact that the widow was sure it hadn’t been an accident interested him. Fires were not unexpected, especially in the height of summer when the land was tinder dry, but no one seemed to know how the fire had started. All Clark remembered was hearing his mother’s cries for help and running toward the barn when he felt a blow to the back of his head. He hadn’t been invulnerable then.

When he woke up, it was to Lionel shaking him. The older man had told him he had come to see his old friend when he had happened on the blaze. He’d pulled Clark to safety before the barn had collapsed with both his parents still inside.

Just as the widow finished talking, Frank Jr came running in.

“Ma, there’s some lawmen outside. They said they’re looking for two bank robbers.”

Clark got up and looked out the window, groaning to himself as he glanced back at Bruce.

“It’s Marshal White,” he said.

Bruce cursed silently. Mrs James didn’t bat an eye. She wiped her hands on her dress.

“Frank, dear, why don’t you pack some rations in a bag and show these fine gentlemen out the back while I go talk to the marshal?”

“But Ma ...”

“Now, dear,” she said kindly but firmly.

She gestured for them to leave by the back way, giving them a brief smile. Clark felt Bruce’s hand at his back and together they followed Frank Jr. He led them down a flight of stairs into what Clark discovered was the cellar.

He very quickly realised the house they were in had been part of the underground railroad. He had heard about such things but had never seen it for himself. 

Bruce nodded to Frank as the boy showed them the entrance to a tunnel, handing them a bag filled with rations.

“Tell your mother, thank you,” Bruce said.

The boy just returned his nod, ushering them inside. The tunnel stretched for about a hundred yards, coming out inside the barn of a neighbouring property. Clark hesitated in the doorway, seeing the widow talking with the marshal. Bruce touched his shoulder, nodding in the direction of a young man standing by one of the lawmen. Clark recognised him from earlier.

“That’s Jesse,” he whispered. “Her eldest.”

It seemed fairly clear that Jesse had somehow contacted the marshals.

“Let’s go,” Bruce whispered.

Clark nodded, taking his partner into his arms and speeding away before the marshals could see them.

***

They managed to find a livery stable in the next town and horses they could use. Bruce considered their options as they rode out, having stocked up with supplies so they could camp out overnight if they couldn’t find shelter. 

Going back to the mountain hideout was certainly one option, but since they had a job to do, they couldn’t just run away from their responsibilities. 

Clark glanced at him, his gaze questioning.

“What?” Bruce said.

“What do we do?”

“Our jobs.”

“So where do we start?”

“Trying to find the rest of the gang.”

“How’re we s’posed to do that?” Clark asked. 

Clark was right about that. The rest of the gang would be scattered, unless they were trying to hide from the law in the mountains. Since it was spring, it was most likely they would be out planning jobs. Lex might be the one in charge since Lionel had been killed, but the rest of the gang could still work independently.

The last Bruce had heard, Jason and Oliver had gone out on their own as well. Like him and Clark, Oliver Queen had been orphaned at a young age and taken in by Lionel. It was like something out of a Dickens novel. Jason Teague, on the other hand, had run away from home at the age of twelve and had joined a rival gang which broke up when their leader was caught and sent to the gallows. 

Oliver had a fondness for the tables and Bruce imagined they would find him gambling at any number of saloons in one of the towns surrounding the city of Metropolis. Or in the city itself.

There was only one way to find out, he thought.

“Let’s go,” he said, kicking his horse forward.

“Where?”

“Metropolis.”

“Why?”

Bruce frowned at his partner.

“What do you mean, why? Don’t ask stupid questions, Clark!”

Clark looked wounded, kicking his horse and taking off. Bruce sighed. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh but sometimes his partner just needed to trust him.

Their horses wouldn’t travel more than about thirty miles, give or take, and Metropolis was at least a hundred miles. Bruce knew their provisions would hold, but they would still have to find shelter. It might be warm during the day but it could get cold on the prairie at night. There was also the added problem of wolves. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about other wildlife, since the mountain lions tended to stay in their own territory.

Bruce caught up to Clark and leaned over, grabbing the reins to slow him down to a walk.

“You’ll wear your horse out at this rate.”

“Don’t know why we didn’t just run to Metropolis,” Clark grumbled. 

“Cause we gotta stay low to the ground, Clark. We can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves, now that we’re lawmen.”

His friend sent him a look which Bruce took to be an accusation. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “And I ain’t a sellout.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I ain’t. And neither are you. It’s called survival, Clark. You should know that better than anyone. Lex would understand it.”

“Lex would think we’re betraying him, and he wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Listen to me, Kid, guys like us, unless we adapt to circumstance there ain’t any other way it’s gonna end. It’ll be either the gallows or a bullet. You know that!”

“They’d never catch me.”

“Maybe not, but they would me, and we both know you’d never leave me behind.”

“Why can’t we just forget this, hole up somewhere until ...”

“Until what? The law gives up on us? You know they won’t ever do that and we’d spend the rest of our lives running. Kid, you gotta trust that I know what I’m doing. Maybe you don’t know Jim Gordon like I do, but he’s a good man. He’ll treat us right, I promise.”

“What about Lex?”

“What about him? You really think he cares about us?”

“He’s our friend,” Clark argued.

They’d already argued about this and Bruce wasn’t going to start a quarrel again with him. There were things about Lex that Clark didn’t know and Bruce wasn’t about to disillusion him. For all that he considered himself old enough, Clark really was naive, especially when it came to Lex. 

The truth was, even if Bruce never said so to his face, he was sure Lex had something to do with the shootout which had killed their former leader. Lionel had been shot in the back and if Bruce remembered right from what Morgan had told him, there hadn’t been a lawman within fifty feet of the Luthor gang leader who could have made that shot. The only person who had been in range was Lex.

Still, Bruce had never been one to make waves, especially when he knew he could also end up with a bullet in his back. 

Getting the amnesty from the governor couldn’t have come at a better time, he thought. He’d been looking for a chance to get out from under Lex, and the gang; maybe start afresh. Even if he never got to find out what had really happened to his parents, it still meant he would get to live a long, healthy life. Something he knew would never happen as long as he remained one of the Luthor boys.

“We should stop and rest the horses for a bit,” he told Clark as they reached the trail which crossed the Neosho River. Bruce guessed they were about ten miles out of Burlington. Another sixty miles from there to Metropolis.

Clark nodded, pulling on the reins to stop the horse and got off, leading the animal down to the water to drink. Bruce followed, worried at how quiet his partner was.

They sat on the ground, sharing a canteen of water, watching the horses as they rested.

“Clark,” Bruce began.

“I don’t want to talk, Bruce. You made up my mind for me.”

“Is that what this is really all about? Clark, I’m just trying to look out for you, like I’ve always done.”

“I’m old enough to know what I want.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna follow Lex all your life? You and I both know that if push comes to shove, he’ll turn tail and abandon us to the wolves. He’d sell us out and you know it.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“Like I told you, Clark, it’s survival. We can’t keep going over the same thing. What’s done is done.”

“You’re the one who always wants to know why,” Clark pointed out. “You were always asking Carmine about your mother and father and he told you to leave it alone.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened to you? To your folks?”

“They’re dead,” Clark shouted suddenly, getting to his feet. “They’re dead! They ain’t here to care!”

Bruce started to get up, only to find that Clark had already taken off running. He wanted to call after him, but knew there was no point. 

Clark had never talked about what had happened to Jonathan and Martha Kent. Bruce supposed it was a sore subject and his friend just hadn’t wanted to deal with his grief. Still, he couldn’t avoid it forever, and it was more than likely that the widow James had stirred up long-forgotten emotions.

Clark would come back, Bruce thought. He would calm down and realise he had left his partner alone with the provisions.

Just as he decided to get up and gather the horses, he heard the unmistakable sound of a rattle. Bruce froze, turning his head very slowly to look at the rattlesnake poised to strike. Neither one of them had thought to look in the dry brush behind them when they had sat down to drink. They’d clearly disturbed the snake in its natural habitat.

Gaze locked on the diamond-backed reptile, Bruce shifted his foot very slowly. He heard the rattle again and saw the tail pointed straight up. He tried to breathe deeply and calmly but he could tell his heart was beating much too fast. 

If he didn’t move, didn’t act threatening in any way, hopefully the snake would realise he wasn’t a predator or prey and settle back down, letting him escape. 

Just when he thought it was safe to move, the snake struck, hissing. Bruce flung out an arm to protect himself, waiting for the attack which never came. 

The snake hissed in protest, causing him to look up to see the tall figure of his lover. Clark tossed the snake away from the trail and pulled Bruce to his feet.

“How did you know?” Bruce asked.

“I heard your heartbeat,” Clark said simply. 

The super-hearing was a new thing and it had taken some time for his partner to grow accustomed to it. Bruce would have got down on his knees and kissed Clark’s feet in gratitude for the new power.

“You saved my life,” he said instead.

Clark shrugged. He never really considered it anything much, he’d told Bruce once. 

“We should get going,” his lover replied. “The sun’s pretty high.”

As Clark turned to grab the horses, Bruce clutched his arm, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss that wasn’t really supposed to be anything but a kiss of gratitude, yet it promised so much more. 

They had never uttered words of love between them, but men like them never did. Love was for fairy tales and women’s stories.


	4. Travellers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce help a family travelling in a wagon and get to make their first arrest as deputy marshals.

They rode in silence for the next hour or so. Bruce glanced at Clark occasionally, wondering what his lover was thinking. The boy could get into these melancholy moods where he wouldn’t talk for hours. Bruce wasn’t much better at it, but he did at least try to keep up a conversation. 

The sun had become even hotter and he considered trying to find shelter to protect them from the hottest part of the day. Sweat was pouring down his face, even shaded as it was from his hat. Clark, as always, didn’t seem to notice the heat. He wasn’t even sweating.

He drank from his water canteen and spilt a little over his face to try and cool himself down. The water was lukewarm, but it was all he had. 

“Wanna stop?” Clark asked.

“No, I’m good.”

Clark shrugged, then nodded. They continued on in what was beginning to feel an uncomfortable silence. 

They hadn’t gone far when they met a family stopped beside a wagon. It looked like one of the wagon’s axles were broken. The husband was trying in vain to fix it.

“Oh,” the woman said.

She was blonde and pretty, her hair covered by a white bonnet. She appeared to be in her late twenties.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am,” Bruce said, tipping his hat. “You look like you’re having some problems.”

Two children peeked out from under the canvas of the wagon.

“The wheel broke,” she said. 

“Perhaps my friend and I can take a look,” he suggested, glancing at Clark. If it was the metal part of the axle, Clark could fix it with his heat vision. 

“We wouldn’t want to delay you,” she said awkwardly.

“It’s no bother ma’am,” Clark said, getting off his horse.

The two children gasped and pointed to the gun on his hip.

“Are you a train robber?” the little girl asked, her eyes wide.

The woman stared at them, appearing frightened.

“No, we’re deputy marshals,” Bruce explained hastily. “Where were you headed?”

“We have family near Burlington. Thought we’d take up a parcel of land.”

“Are you a farmer?” Clark asked, bending down to take a look at the broken axle.

Bruce doubted it, even as the man nodded. The family were clearly not equipped for it, judging from what he’d seen in the covered wagon. They had little protection for themselves. They seemed like every other family that decided to take up farming in the mid-west, travelling without any kind of idea of the harsh life they were facing. At least for Clark’s family, his father had come from a long line of farmers.

Clark glanced up at him and gave a small nod, which wasn’t caught by the husband. Bruce distracted the man by asking him about his family in Burlington and what he planned to do with his land. The children decided to come out of the wagon and chased each other around, making the horses snort in impatience.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Bruce warned the little girl, who was getting too close to the back of his horse. “He’s liable to kick out and hit you.”

The mother frowned at him, but took the little girl in hand.

“Horses don’t like people walking behind them,” Bruce explained. 

“Oh. Thank you,” she said.

Clark had clearly finished what he was doing as he got up and approached them.

“Your axle’s good now,” he said. He frowned at Bruce and nodded his head in a gesture which clearly said he needed to talk to him about something.

“What’s wrong?”

“A couple of riders coming in from the south west. They’re not marshals, far as I can tell.”

“They armed?”

“Yeah. Could be trouble.”

“All right. I’ll get the family packed up in the wagon and get them going. You keep an eye out.”

Bruce tried to keep his tone calm as he informed the family he would help them get on their way and accompany them to Burlington. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm them, but if the riders were what he thought they were, the family could be in danger.

The father seemed to sense something was up but didn’t comment as he got back up to drive the wagon while the mother got the two children inside. Bruce got back on his horse and nodded at Clark to do the same, following behind the wagon.

Clark, meanwhile, was keeping an anxious eye on the riders while watching the wagon move off slowly. The two horses pulling the wagon were clearly older and not fit enough to haul such weight, but there was little he could do about it.

He tried to tune in with his hearing but didn’t manage to focus enough to get an idea of what the riders were doing or what they were planning. He still felt uneasy as he continued to check their approach.

The two men appeared to spot them and sped up a little. Clark didn’t recognise them, but one of them seemed to have a familiar face.

“Howdy,” the older one said.

Clark nodded in greeting.

“Where you headed?”

“Burlington,” Clark said shortly, having overheard the conversation between Bruce and the husband.

“Got any val’bles?” the younger man asked, grinning, showing various teeth missing. He had a glint in his eye which Clark knew was going to be trouble.

Bruce joined him, stopping his horse in front of the two riders, trying to block them from the wagon where the father was peering anxiously from the driver’s seat. Bruce waved at the man to keep going.

“Don’t think so,” the older man said, pulling out his gun, but Clark had got there first, aiming his gun at the other man. 

“Why don’t you gentlemen,” and he used the term loosely, “move along and leave this good family in peace.”

“Yeah? Well, how about I shoot you and your partner here and then those nice folks over there?”

“I doubt you’ll get very far,” Bruce growled.

“Yeah, says who?”

“Says us.”

The younger man was peering at Clark.

“Hey, I saw your picture on the wall. You’re Kid Kent. Guess that makes you Wayne,” he added, looking at Bruce.

“What of it?” Clark growled back.

“Thought you were on our side.”

Clark bit his lip. While they were supposed to be deputy marshals, as far as other outlaws were concerned, they were still one of them.

“Yeah, well we don’t go robbing innocent folk,” Bruce replied. “They’re just trying to get by. They ain’t got nothin’ to steal.”

Clark glanced at his partner. Bruce had a way of talking that seemed to change whatever company he kept. If he was in more educated company, he would talk like an educated man. Then again, he was always reading books which Clark had no mind to. 

The two riders clearly wanted to argue. Clark remembered where he’d seen the younger one before. Arnold Etchison was wanted for murder after he’d slaughtered his family. He had no doubt Etchison would try to kill the family in the wagon. 

There was no way he could just get off his horse and use his abilities to stop them, not without someone seeing, but he didn’t see any other choice. He wasn’t going to let this nice family be murdered.

Bruce cocked his gun and started forward on his horse. The older man pulled out a whip, lashing at Bruce, whose horse whinnied and lost its footing. His partner managed to keep his balance and controlled his horse but the two men had already taken off after the wagon.

Clark glanced at his partner, who nodded. He jumped off his horse and chased the two men on foot, doing his best to keep out of the line of sight of the wagon, no easy feat since he expected the woman and the two children would be looking out the back. Still, he hoped his speed would be enough to make sure he was just a blur as he pulled the two horses to a sudden halt, making them lose their balance and toss their riders.

Both men fell to the ground, hitting their heads hard enough to knock them both out. Clark returned to his horse, which seemed a little disturbed by his fast movements and tried to make it look like his own horse had tossed him off. 

The wagon had stopped a bit up ahead and the father was looking anxiously around from the driver’s seat. Clark quickly calmed his horse and rode with Bruce up to the wagon.

“Are you all right, son?” the father asked.

“Yes sir, I’m fine. My horse took fright is all.”

“It looks like yours weren’t the only one,” the man said, indicating the two men on the ground.

“There are a lot of snakes around,” Bruce interjected. “Horses ain’t too fond of snakes.”

The father seemed to believe that. Clark was relieved. 

“It looked like that man was going to shoot you,” the older man said.

“Yes sir. Good thing he didn’t.”

“Are you going to leave them like that?”

Bruce shrugged. Clark bit his lip. They couldn’t exactly leave them, not now they’d told the man there were snakes around, but if they woke them up, the men could find their horses, which had run off, and once again go chasing after the wagon.

“Why don’t you go ahead to Burlington,” Bruce suggested. “We have to take the men into town anyway and drop them off with the local sheriff. We think they may be wanted.”

The man raised his eyebrow, but nodded. He clearly realised this was the best thing to do in the situation.

Clark had never considered that they would have to take the men in, but since they were now deputy marshals, it was their job. His best guess was that they were a couple of hours out of the town.

“What do we do with them?” he said, glancing at the two outlaws still on the ground.

“We’ll have to tie them up.”

“Can’t we just leave them?”

“They’ll try to go after the wagon again. You want that?”

“No.”

“Me either. Come on, Clark. Come help me with them.”

“I still don’t see why we can’t just ...”

“You want to leave them tied up? I doubt they’d get free before the snakes got ‘em, then the wolves.”

“That’s Etchison,” Clark told him, pointing out the younger one. “He’s wanted for murder.”

“Yeah, I know, Clark, which is why the law needs to take care of it. Or would you rather he get torn apart by wolves?”

After everything he’d heard about the other man, he was of the opinion that it would be no less than the man deserved. Bruce must have noticed his bitter expression as his partner shook him gently.

“I agree with you,” he said, “but we’re lawmen now and we have to abide by the law.”

Clark grumbled, but knew his friend was right. He grabbed the rope from the saddle of his horse and helped tie the men’s wrists together. He and Bruce considered the situation.

“We could ride with them, but it’ll be uncomfortable.”

Clark shook his head. “I think I should just run into town and drop them off at the jail. It’ll be quicker.”

There was an added benefit to it, he thought. If the men didn’t wake up in the time it took him to get them into town, there was a good chance they wouldn’t remember anything, so wouldn’t know it was Clark who had knocked them out and left them with the sheriff. That way, they could still be seen as outlaws and it wouldn’t get back to Lex that they were now lawmen. 

“That’s a good idea, Clark. I’ll wait here with Etchison and the horses while you take the old man into town.”

Nodding, Clark sped off, dropping the old man on the doorstep, his hands still tied. The man was still out. He returned in less than a minute to Bruce’s side and took Etchison the same way, knocking on the door and speeding around the corner, watching as a deputy came out, staring at the two men on the doorstep. His eyes widened as he realised exactly who was tied up on the stoop.

Clark grinned to himself. If this was what being a deputy marshal meant, then he could grow to like this job, he thought. Putting away crazed killers like Etchison was a good thing.

Bruce kept the horses calm while Clark sped off. The animals could clearly see things from a different perspective and while it seemed almost magical that Clark could disappear in the blink of an eye, the way the horses were acting up, it appeared to disturb them.

His partner was back within five minutes and the horses would have run off if they hadn’t managed to keep hold of the reins.

“Did you do it?”

Clark nodded. “Dropped them off as I said I would. The deputy came out. He knew Etchison right away. It was like he’d won a prize.”

“Good.”

He looked at his partner, who seemed thoughtful.

“What is it?”

“I kind of see why you like the idea of working for the governor. We can really do some good with this. I mean, I know Etchison’s going to get the gallows, but ...”

“The man’s a murderer, Clark. There’s a big difference between someone who kills just for fun, like Etchison, and people like us who only kill if we have to.”

“I know. I’m glad that we haven’t, yet.”

“Me too,” Bruce admitted. 

He looked up. The sun was lower in the sky.

“We should keep moving if we want to make Burlington by dark.”

“I want to check on that family,” Clark said. “They sure seemed like nice folks.”

“Yes, they did. Come on, Clark.”

They got back on their horses and rode in silence for a little while. Clark seemed a little more contemplative.

“Bruce?” he asked finally.

“What is it, Kid?”

“I’m sorry about before. About the quarrel. I still think we’re turning on Lex, but, maybe you’re right about some of the things he’s done.”

“I don’t know, Clark. I can see it from your point of view too, but there are things about Lex and his father that you don’t know.”

“I’m not a kid, Bruce. If it’s something bad, I want to know.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe Lionel had something to do with what happened to your folks? And maybe it wasn’t a lawman who killed Lionel in that gunfight two years ago?”

“You think it was Lex?”

Bruce frowned at his partner. Considering Clark had practically worshipped Lex from the moment he’d joined the Luthor gang, it was a huge leap. It made him wonder if Clark knew more than he’d let himself believe. His friend wasn’t a genius by any means, but it seemed he had a different kind of smarts.

“Yes, I think it was Lex.”

Clark nodded, his expression carefully neutral. The brief conversation hadn’t revealed much, but Bruce could see his partner was beginning to think about things a little more deliberately.

It was growing dark by the time they found the wagon. The family had stopped at a small homestead about a mile out of town. The children were playing happily while the adults sat smoking on the porch. 

Bruce smiled at them as he rode up.

“Howdy.”

The father from the wagon returned his smile.

“See, Ben, told ya,” he said, turning to the other man sitting on the porch.

Ben tipped his hat.

“Mighty grateful to you, sons,” he said. “Those men didn’t give you no trouble?”

“No sir. They’re now in jail, where they belong.”

“You boys eaten yet?” an older woman asked. She was a matronly woman with a kind face.

“No ma’am,” Clark said. Bruce was going to tell them they could find some place to eat in town, but the woman interjected.

“We have some leftover stew and cornbread,” she smiled. “You’re welcome to it, if you would like.”

“That would be most kind, ma’am,” Bruce said, keeping to the less roughened tone he used when he spoke to most women.

They enjoyed a good meal of stew and cornbread. The family offered them a place to bed down for the night but Bruce gently refused, knowing they had very little room themselves. He also didn’t want them accidentally learning that the two of them were also outlaws, in spite of their amnesty.

He rode out with Clark, heading toward the town. 

“We should find somewhere to bed down for the night.”

“I saw what looked like farm buildings up ahead about a mile,” Clark said. “I bet we could find a place there.”

“Let’s go then,” Bruce smiled.

Clark’s miracle vision had aided them once again. The farm buildings included a small homestead and a barn where they could at least keep warm for the night. The straw on the ground would make good bedding if they covered it with a cloth. The homestead was dark and there didn’t seem to be any sign of anyone inside, so they felt they were safe.

They made sure the horses were comfortable in the stable, with some hay to eat and water nearby, then found a cloth they could lay over the straw. With their coats for pillows, they were able to lay in relative comfort.

Bruce pulled his lover to him and kissed him. Clark seemed a little less distracted than the night before, moaning softly as Bruce thrust his tongue in his mouth.

They wound themselves around each other as they kissed, still fully clothed, yet desperate to get closer. 

“Bruce, I wanna ...”

“I know what you want. It’s cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” the younger man said almost breathlessly. His hand was between them, cupping Bruce’s cock which was hardening in that gentle grip.

Bruce didn’t object as Clark began to undo the buttons on his shirt, then opened his flannels, pressing soft kisses to his nipples. He groaned as that hot tongue traced the nipple, which hardened in response, while a hand crept down to quickly undo his belt and fist his cock.

“God, Kid ...”

“Bruce ...”

Hurriedly, he did the same to his lover, undoing the shirt and flannel, pushing the pants down to take Clark’s shaft in hand. He pressed closer to his lover so their naked cocks rubbed together. Clark took his hand away and Bruce wrapped his hand around both, roughly stroking. Pre-cum leaked from the heads, making his hand sticky.

Clark rolled onto his back, pushing his trousers off, undoing all the buttons on his flannels, then rolled over onto his stomach to expose his hole. Bruce stripped down to his own flannels and moved on top of his lover, using the pre-cum to slick his way as he slid a finger inside. Clark moaned softly, pushing back against his finger, seeming impatient, but Bruce wanted to take his time. He continued to open up his lover, pausing now and again to roughly stroke his cock.

Clark grunted in impatience, getting up on his hands and knees. Bruce grinned to himself. His boy could be demanding when he wanted to be. Slowly, he pressed against the boy’s hole, using his hand to guide himself while his other hand held his lover’s waist to keep them both steady. 

In spite of all the times they’d made love this way, his lover was still as tight as a virgin and it was often slow going. Tonight, however, Clark wanted it rough, pushing back as Bruce pushed in so he was fully inside his lover in one thrust. Clark dropped his head as Bruce began to thrust in and out, taking the rough strokes without complaint, his hand idly stroking his own cock.

Bruce growled, more feral instincts taking over, and pushed Clark’s hand away. 

“You come on my cock or you don’t come at all.”

Clark seemed to shudder at the guttural command and obeyed, his hand dropping down to the cloth.

Bruce pulled out.

“Roll over onto your back and hold your legs,” he commanded. Again, Clark obeyed, quickly rolling over and Bruce once again entered him. He thrust more forcefully, laying over his lover and kissing him. With a cry, Clark came, clamping down on Bruce’s cock which forced Bruce’s own climax from him.

Bruce collapsed on his lover, enjoying the way Clark stroked his hair while he recovered his breath. He pressed a kiss to the boy’s chest and rolled over onto his back. Clark snuggled close. They lay quietly for a few minutes, holding each other.

“Bruce?” Clark said finally.

“I know, Clark,” he replied, conveying his meaning without saying the words. His lover understood.


	5. Ranch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The outlaws manage to escape Marshal White and seek shelter for the night at a ranch owned by Gabe Sullivan.

Clark woke to the sound of voices and sat up, using his vision to look through the outer wall of the barn. His heart sank as he recognised the men. Marshal White.

He was torn between waking Bruce and trying to figure a way out. As he continued looking around, he realised the barn was surrounded. How had the marshal even known they were here?

He listened in to the conversation, slowly coming to the realisation that the marshal had just happened upon the place. From what he could tell, the man had been talking to the local sheriff, who had informed the marshal by telegraph that he had arrested two individuals both wanted for murder and that the two men had claimed to have run into Kid Kent and ‘Batman’.

Clark leaned over and shook Bruce, who muttered something, then rolled over. He covered his friend’s mouth with his hand briefly, then lifted his finger to his lips to signal to keep quiet. Bruce’s gaze flicked to their gun belts, hanging on the railing next to the horses. Clark shook his head. Even at high speed, there was a good chance he would make too much noise and that would bring the marshal and his men running.

Quietly, he got up and slowly began putting on his clothes. Bruce rolled over and began putting on his own clothes, shivering. Clark guessed it was cold outside, since it was not long after sunrise, but he didn’t feel the cold.

The voices sounded closer.

“Nobody ain’t home, Perry,” one of the men was saying.

“Well somebody’s sure been here,” the marshal replied. “These tracks are fresh-like.”

“You think maybe Wayne and Kent done took shelter, boss?”

“Yeah, I’m thinkin’ so. It was real cold last night. Now hush up, Olsen. We don’t wanna scare ‘em away, now do we?”

Bruce, now dressed, moved quietly across the barn floor, carefully lifting the gun from the holster on his belt. Clark watched, grimacing. The last thing he wanted to do was shoot a marshal, but it seemed like they might not have a choice in the matter.

His partner signalled to him to look again outside. Clark nodded, looking again and counting the men, raised his hand. There were five men, all armed. There was no way he could even run out, not if he wanted to leave Bruce to get shot. 

“C’mon out, boys. We know you’re in there.”

Bruce sighed heavily at Marshal White’s call. Clark shrugged. The governor had told them to beware of the marshal, knowing full well he would ignore any amnesty orders. 

There was no choice and they knew it.

They walked out, their hands raised. White grinned.

“Well, looky here,” he said. “Nice of you boys to come quiet. Would hate to shoot you.”

“You can’t arrest us, Marshal,” Bruce stated flatly. “We have amnesty. Signed by Governor Gordon himself.”

The marshal raised a sandy brow.

“Amnesty, hmm? I don’t recall reading ‘bout no amnesty.”

Olsen, a young man about Clark’s age with red hair, brushed past them to enter the barn. He emerged about a minute later with Bruce’s saddlebag, waving a folded document. 

“Here, boss. It’s got the governor’s seal, right here.”

Perry took the document, frowning at it.

“Well, I don’t care about no amnesty. For all I know this could be forged.” He shrugged, ordering the two outlaws to be cuffed. 

Clark waited until the very last second, when two of the marshal’s men came to stand behind them, restraints in hand. Bruce glanced at him, then nodded imperceptibly. Moving in unison, they turned, grabbing the men and knocking them out, taking their guns from their holsters. 

Clark fired the gun in the direction of the fifth man, who had already pulled his own weapon and was firing on them. White and Olsen quickly took cover by an old wagon, returning shots at Bruce. The distraction was enough for Clark to turn on the other deputy, using his heat vision so the deputy quickly dropped his weapon in confusion.

Confident that Bruce could keep the marshal and the kid busy, Clark turned and went back into the barn, grabbing his own belt and holster and as much of their belongings as he could gather, then mounted his horse. He reached for the reins of Bruce’s horse and guided it out.

The deputy, his hand clearly still smarting from Clark heating up his gun, tried to stop the horses as they emerged. Clark kicked out at the man, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to knock the wind out of them. He took a chance Marshal White wouldn’t try to shoot the horses as Bruce mounted his own and they galloped away from the farm.

He glanced back and saw the marshal take off his hat and throw it on the ground in a bad temper. 

They finally slowed the horses to a walk about a mile north of the farm.

“Damn, Olsen’s still got the paper,” Bruce bemoaned. 

“We can’t go back for it,” Clark told him.

“I know that. Damn White. He’s always had it in for us.”

“He ain’t gonna stop just ‘cause the governor said we can’t be arrested.”

“Yeah.” Bruce looked thoughtful. “You know, that’s twice in two days. Somebody up there sure don’t like us.”

Clark sighed. It seemed like Bruce might be right about that.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they rode the plains, heading toward the city. They kept to the back trails, hoping the marshal and his men would use the more open trails. It was rougher going on the back trail, but Clark kept an eye out for snakes and any other creatures which might frighten the horses. 

Eventually, Bruce began singing a ditty he’d learned years ago as a young boy. 

_Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam  
And the deer and the antelope play  
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word  
And the sky is not cloudy all day_

Clark tried to join in, but he didn’t have a musical bone in his body and he knew it. Bruce paused in his singing and shot a look at him, shaking his head. Sheepishly, Clark grinned at his companion and stopped singing. Bruce finished the song and moved on to something else that he’d once told Clark was a song he’d been taught by his father’s British manservant. 

“Do you ever wonder what happened to him?” Clark asked when Bruce finished the song.

“Who?”

“Alfred.”

Bruce looked at him.

“What good would it do?” he asked.

“Maybe he knows what happened to your folks,” Clark suggested. “Who killed them and all.”

“Maybe. He’d be in Gotham though. If he was still around.”

“You think he won’t?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged, his expression blank as if he didn’t really care.

Clark couldn’t understand Bruce’s indifference. He was so interested in finding out the truth about his parents’ deaths, yet it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with the man who he’d once said had been his father’s faithful servant and trusted friend. 

“Bruce ...”

“I don’t care, all right? He left. Right after they died. I never saw him again.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Clark insisted.

“You didn’t know Alfred.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t understand. I wish I’d had someone like Alfred when my folks died.”

“You had me.”

“It’s not the same.”

Bruce looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re right. It’s not.” He squinted his eyes against the sun, high in the sky. “Let’s rest for a while Kid.”

They found a spot by the river, letting the horses off so they could drink the water and found a shady area underneath the trees. Clark quickly checked the area for snakes while Bruce broke out the meagre provisions they had. 

It was at least another day’s ride to Metropolis. There were no towns in between and the land was sparsely populated. A few folks had started small farms and there was a big property about fifteen miles north of where they were resting. Clark remembered it from a year or so earlier when they had been on the run from the marshal after another robbery had gone sour. 

He smiled, thinking of the two girls who lived on the ranch. Chloe Sullivan was blonde and pretty and her cousin Lois Lane was about as different from her in looks as she could get, being tall and dark-haired, but they could both sure talk an ear off.

The two cousins were as close as sisters. Clark knew Lois had a sister who lived about two towns away. Lucy was almost Clark’s age but she had run away from the ranch at sixteen to get married. Their father was a soldier who was based at a fort out in California but had left his daughters in the care of their uncle.

When they’d met Chloe and Lois, the girls had found them hiding out in one of the outbuildings on the ranch. Chloe was smart as a whip and knew immediately who they were, but had decided not to go for the law. Lois had challenged them in a card game, which Bruce had taken up. He’d been surprised when Lois won.

Had they not been together, Clark was sure Bruce would have taken up with Chloe, while he would have taken up with Lois, even if she was annoying. 

Bruce nudged him.

“You know, the Sullivan ranch is a few miles north of here. Bet we could make it by dark.”

Clark grinned back at him.

“I remember. I was just thinking about that. You wanna?”

“Why not? I’m sure the girls would like to see us.”

Decision made, they set off, riding once again in comfortable silence. Bruce found another song to sing and Clark hummed along tunelessly, smirking now and again at his partner. He had a feeling Bruce would tease him about it later, but he didn’t care. 

It was almost dark by the time they made it to the boundaries of the ranch. They could tell by the way the windows were lit that the ranch-house was occupied, which meant the girls weren’t alone.

Clark stared in dismay at the man smoking on the porch. Bruce couldn’t see him at this distance, but Clark could.

“Olsen,” he hissed.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Blast it!”

Chloe came out of the ranch-house and stood beside Olsen, talking to him. Clark looked around, using his vision to see inside the house. He saw Marshal White talking with Mr Sullivan. The three deputies were also inside, which meant the marshal was either seeking shelter for the night or had just stopped by. He clearly wasn’t expecting trouble.

Lois wasn’t in the house, which meant she was on the ranch somewhere. He spotted her lithe figure in the stable as she brushed one of the horses down. She was wearing work clothes.

Clark got down from his horse and handed the reins to Bruce.

“What are you doing?” his partner whispered.

“Wait here,” Clark whispered back. “I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.”

He sped to the stable, stopping just short and moving quietly in the semi-darkness. The horse Lois was brushing snorted as it spotted him. Lois stiffened, then lashed out with an elbow. Clark clapped a hand over her mouth and wrapped his other arm around her body.

“It’s me. Clark,” he said as she struggled. He let her go so she could turn around. She stared wide-eyed at him.

“Clark! What are you doing here? Marshal White’s in the house!”

“I know. I saw. Bruce is outside.”

“Are you insane? If the marshal even knew that we ... he’d have Uncle Gabe strung up so fast ...”

“Lois!”

“Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. 

“We’re only passing through,” he said. “We’re on our way to Metropolis, but we need shelter for the night.”

She looked resigned. “All right. You can sleep out in the old barn. We’ll distract the marshal’s men, but you better be quiet about it.”

“Thank you, Lois. We owe you.”

She snorted. “Yeah, one day I’m gonna collect too.”

Clark watched her go from the doorway, keeping to the shadows. She went up to the house, stopping to talk to Olsen before he went inside. She grabbed Chloe’s arm and whispered something in her ear. Her cousin sent a look in Clark’s direction, then nodded and the two girls went back inside. 

Knowing he wouldn’t have much time, Clark sped out to the property boundary where Bruce was waiting. 

“Come on,” he said, taking his horse’s reins. “We need to be real quiet.”

Bruce got off his horse and followed Clark through the gate. They walked the horses to the ramshackle barn and looped the reins around the post. The building itself was about three hundred yards from the homestead. Far enough away so the animals wouldn’t be heard by anyone in the house.

Bruce was shivering with cold again as they settled in the store. Knowing they couldn’t light a fire, Clark took his coat from the back of his horse and laid it down on the dusty floor, pulling his lover down with him and curling his arms around him.

“Thanks,” the other man said.

With the men still on the property, Clark had no idea what else to do. His stomach rumbled noisily but their food supply was almost down to nothing. They were used to starving when on the run, but it still made for a sleepless night or two if they didn’t eat.

“Hsst!”

Clark lifted his head and grinned at Chloe.

“You boys must be insane to come here when the marshal ...”

“Yeah, but we weren’t to know,” Bruce answered, sitting up to greet the blonde.

She came in, carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle in her hand.

“Figured you boys would be hungry,” she said. “It’s only bread and cheese ...”

Bruce reached out for it, eagerly taking the bundle.

“Where’s Lois?” Clark whispered, even as Bruce handed him a hunk of the bread and cheese together.

“In the house, keeping the men occupied. They’ll be gone soon.”

Bruce looked at her.

“Are you certain about that?”

“The marshal said something about staying at a ranch owned by a friend of his. He just wanted to make sure we were all right. Can’t be too careful, he says.” She snorted. “Like we’d ever need to worry. We can take care of ourselves.”

“Of that, I am in no doubt,” Bruce told her. He had taught her a few things the year before. Chloe was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. She was not just beautiful, but smarter and stronger than most.

They fell quiet at the sound of voices from the homestead. Lois seemed to be talking loudly. Clark tensed, but appeared to relax when the men’s voices began fading out.

“They’re leaving,” he said.

Chloe nudged him. “Told you.”

Lois joined them shortly after.

“So, what brings the two baddest outlaws in Kansas our way?” she asked.

“Like I said, Lois, we’re on our way to Metropolis.”

“Why? Planning on robbing a bank?” Her expression was almost gleeful as she said it. 

“No. Stopping someone from robbing it,” Bruce answered.

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning at him.

“We’re deputy marshals now,” he told her. “The governor gave us amnesty if we’d work for him for a year.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. I mean, you boys have your reputations, but far as I can tell, you ain’t never killed nobody. That’s what I told Uncle Gabe. Like, we know you’d never do anything to hurt decent folk.” She peered curiously at Bruce. “So why is Marshal White gunning for you if you’re working for the governor?”

“Because he don’t care about no amnesty,” Clark replied. “He just wants to throw us in jail.”

“Or throw us to the wolves,” Bruce commented. “Either way, if he gets his hands on us, we’re dead.” He handed Clark half of the remaining food and ate the rest. “We sure appreciate you putting us up for the night though.”

“What are friends for?” Chloe said with a shrug. “You know we’d do anything for you boys, especially after last summer.”

A man had come to the ranch last summer when Clark and Bruce had decided to hole up for a few days. The man had taken supper with the girls and Chloe’s father, acting friendly enough that Gabe had fallen for it. Neither Chloe nor Lois were fooled by the man’s demeanour, however, their suspicions confirmed when the man had gone to Chloe’s room and attacked her. Gabe had drunk too much and had been sound asleep when Chloe had screamed, so his reactions had been slow.

Fortunately, Bruce and Clark had been sleeping in the deserted bunkhouse not far from the homestead and had heard Chloe’s screams for help. They had run in, practically breaking down her door and tossed the man out.

Gabe had recognised them both as outlaws and had been all for turning them in to the local lawman, until he realised the danger his daughter had been in. He had allowed them to stay for a few days, warning them that if they caused any trouble he wouldn’t hesitate to bring in the law on them. 

They had decided they would give the man no reason and they’d spent the few days on the ranch helping wherever they could. Gabe had eventually admitted he’d misjudged them, even praising them for their hard work.

That hadn’t stopped the man getting upset when both Chloe and Lois had taken a more than friendly interest in them. Especially the idea of two men together. Bruce remembered that conversation as being awkward. Gabe didn’t have a problem with ‘those kind of people’ although he’d never come out and actually used the term, as long as they caused no trouble, but they’d still had trouble talking to the two girls about it.

Still, that was in the past and now the girls were what Bruce and Clark considered friends. 

“You know, now that the marshal’s gone, you could move to the bunkhouse,” Chloe suggested. “Maybe you could stay a few days.”

“We can’t,” Bruce told her gently. “We have to find our leader. The governor wants him most of all.”

“Why? I mean, if he gave you amnesty, wouldn’t it be better for you to just hole up somewhere and stay out of trouble?”

“Because we have a job to do, Lois,” Clark said firmly, making Bruce think his partner was now fully on board with the governor’s mission. He wondered if the incident with the travelling family the day before had been the thing that convinced him that they really could do some good with this.

That had always been the problem with Clark. At his core, Bruce’s lover was a gentle soul who could never hurt anyone and becoming an outlaw had never really sat well with him. In the early days, when Clark had first joined them, Bruce had overhead many quarrels with Lionel, who had tried to beat Clark’s gentle nature out of him.

The girls stayed talking for another hour or so until Gabe started calling from the house. Chloe looked crestfallen.

“We better go,” she said. “Pop’s gonna get real mad if we don’t.”

Lois looked at her cousin and nodded. “Yeah. You boys gonna stay for breakfast?”

Clark smirked at the mention of the word breakfast. Lois’ breakfasts were legendary. Legendarily bad that was, Bruce thought with a grin.

“Sure, we’ll stay,” he said.

They watched the young women leave and began to settle down for the night. Clark sighed, his stomach rumbling.

“Do we really have to stay for breakfast?”

“Bad breakfast is better than none at all, Clark.”

“Yeah, but Lois ...”

“What are you complaining about?” Bruce returned mildly. “You could eat rotgut and never get sick.”

“Ugh!”

There was silence for a few minutes, except for the sound of Clark trying to settle down on the hard floor. Usually the younger man could sleep anywhere. Bruce could have sworn one morning he’d woken up to see his partner floating. 

“I’m hungry,” Clark whined.

“We’re out of food.”

“I know, but ...”

“Clark, shut up and go to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Bruce decided there was only one thing left to do and that was distract his partner. He rolled over so they were facing, undoing Clark’s pants and cupping his cock through his flannels.

“Bruce,” Clark complained, trying to squirm away.

“Jesus, what’s with you tonight?”

“Nothin’,” he said, then moaned as Bruce cupped his bare cock. Bruce could feel the shaft swelling in his hand.

He moved down their makeshift bedding, taking just the head of the cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Clark shifted restlessly above him, lifting his hips slightly, demanding more. Bruce slipped off, licking the shaft, stroking underneath until Clark moaned. 

“Bruce!”

“I got you Kid,” he said. 

Clark continued to shift as Bruce bobbed up and down, swallowing as much of the shaft as he could manage without choking. His own cock swelled in his pants but he ignored it. This was all about Clark tonight, he decided. 

He felt the moment his lover was close to the edge, his body taut. Clark sucked in a harsh breath, his muscles bunching as he fought for control. Bruce pulled off and closed his hand around the shaft, jerking it until Clark gave a harsh cry and came. 

His lover opened his eyes and stared at him.

“Feel better?” Bruce asked, moving back up so he could look down at the younger man. Clark nodded.

“What about you?” he asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about me. Go to sleep.”

Clark yawned and nodded sleepily, curling up against him. His body was warm against Bruce’s.

As the younger man slept, Bruce stayed awake a while longer, thinking about how far they had come and how far they still had to go. Clark deserved so much more than the life that fate had handed him and Bruce wanted to give him that. Even if that meant a future where they weren’t together. 

Amnesty or not, Bruce’s greatest fear was that he would eventually wind up on the end of a hangman’s noose. At least Clark would survive it, he thought. It was not at all comforting. 

He thought about something Clark had said that day as he lay with his lover in his arms. He wondered what had really happened to Alfred. Would his father’s faithful servant really have abandoned him, or had someone forced him to leave.

One day, he told himself, before he died, however it happened, he would find out the truth. He would find the answers, he swore. No matter what.


	6. Ollie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make it to Metropolis and find Oliver

They set out for the city after breakfast. Lois had clearly not cooked as for once the breakfast was edible. Fresh, scrambled eggs, cured meats and freshly baked biscuits. Clark enjoyed every bite, grinning at Lois when she complained that he never enjoyed her breakfasts so enthusiastically.

Gabe was quiet at the table, refraining from saying anything, even when Bruce told him about the amnesty. He seemed anxious for them to leave, however. 

They kissed the girls goodbye and headed out before the sun could get too hot. 

“So, who do you think we should start with in Metropolis?” Clark asked.

“I’m betting we’ll find Oliver at one of the saloons. Probably working the tables.”

Clark frowned, feeling a little uneasy. Oliver was a good guy, mostly, although he had killed a gunslinger a while back. There’d been an argument over a poker game and the ‘slinger had pulled a gun on him. Oliver had been left with no choice but to shoot the man. Even the saloon keep had said so.

“We really gonna turn Ollie in?”

Bruce shrugged. 

“Don’t know what choice we have. He’s still wanted by the law, Clark. It’s our job.”

“I thought the governor just wanted Lex?”

“You know what he told us. We can’t just pretend that Ollie ain’t no outlaw. ‘Sides, maybe the governor will give him leniency. He never killed a marshal.”

They rode in silence for a little while. Clark didn’t want to turn his friend in, but as Bruce had said, they really had no choice. Now Jason, he was a bit different. When he’d joined the Luthor gang, he’d already killed a couple of men. As far as Clark was concerned, Jason was plumb crazy. 

About a year or so ago, Jason had gone with them to rob a stage and had shot and killed the driver. There had been no need for it and Bruce had tried to stop him, but Jason wouldn’t listen to reason. 

He remembered looking into the other man’s eyes and thinking just how wild they looked. There had always been something about the other man that made him glad he was invulnerable. If anyone was likely to shoot a friend in the back, it was Jason. 

They stopped when the sun was high in the sky and ate the bread and cheese Chloe had given them for the journey. Clark’s stomach was rumbling noisily. Bruce shot him a look but said nothing. Yet Clark could see his lips twitch. 

After the horses had had their fill of water, they decided to continue on.

“How much longer to Metropolis?” Clark asked.

“About ten miles, give or take.”

“Think we’ll make it by nightfall?”

“Should do. Why?”

“I just don’t like the idea of being out here at night. I mean, there’s nothing between here and the city.”

“It’ll be okay, Clark, I promise.”

Once again, Clark lapsed into silence. He noticed his friend shooting him looks of concern, but he just didn’t really have anything to say. He was more worried about what would happen once they got into the city and found their fellow gang members.

His horse snorted and he kept a firm grip on the reins. Clark had grown up around horses and he’d learned early on that horses could get temperamental unless they were controlled by a firm hand. He supposed the same could be true for men as well. Lionel had certainly tried to rule the gang with an iron fist. 

He remembered once being forced to watch when one of the younger members had been caught by a local lawman. Lionel had sent Morgan and Carmine in to break the kid out of jail. When they’d all three returned, Lionel had beat the kid senseless. Lionel had one main rule. Don’t get caught. 

Clark was sure Lex had been the target of Lionel’s rages more than once. He knew Lex had hated his father, which made it all the more plausible that Lex could have been the one who’d pulled the trigger the night Lionel died. 

Still lost in thought, Clark was unaware they had reached the city until Bruce spoke his name.

“We should try the Atlantis first,” he said.

Oh, right, Clark thought. Where Oliver would be trying the tables. The Atlantis saloon was one of the few places which turned a blind eye to outlaws. Of course, it helped that Morgan Edge was part-owner.

Bruce had once explained that Atlantis was the name of a mythical city which had supposedly vanished. He’d said that the city was under the sea somewhere, but no one knew where. It was even thought that there were still people living in this city. 

Bruce led the way, keeping his horse to a slow walk as they made their way through the streets. The sun had started to set but there were still people out walking.

He brought his horse to a halt and pointed to a building a few hundred yards away.

“There it is,” he said.

Clark followed his friend to the saloon and tied his horse up at the hitching post outside before entering the saloon.

They each removed their hats and looked around. The barkeep was a young man about Bruce’s age. He had an olive complexion with long, curly hair and a dark handlebar moustache. 

“Evenin’ boys,” he said, taking in the guns on their belts.

“Evening,” Bruce returned.

“What can I get you?”

“Whiskey for me and my friend will have a sarsaparilla.”

The barkeep smiled knowingly and served up the drinks within a minute. Clark turned his back on the bar and looked properly around the saloon. There were only a few men at the tables and a door near the back of the room which he assumed led to the poker tables.

Upstairs were rooms which the men could rent out if they fancied female company. The man who owned the saloon with Edge kept a couple of prostitutes who were only too willing to sleep with the men. For money, of course.

A brunette wearing a gown with a tight bodice and hoop skirt came down the stairs, a sly grin on her face. A short, skinny man followed behind her, wiping his face with a dirty hand. Clark frowned, recognising him as an outlaw with a rival gang. He had a limp which caused him to walk a little oddly.

The man stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on the gun at his belt. 

“Well,” he drawled. “If it ain’t Kid Kent and Batman Wayne.”

The barkeep glared at him.

“You know the rules Cobblepot. No gunfighting here.”

“We ain’t here for trouble,” Bruce told him. “We’re just looking for our gang.”

The brunette ambled over, touching Bruce flirtatiously on the arm.

“Hmm, you look like you could use a distraction,” she said.

The barkeep turned his glare on her.

“Stop stealin’ my customers, Tina.” He looked at Bruce. “Who you looking for?”

“Oliver. You seen him?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, he’s in back, takin’ Victor Fries for all his money.”

Clark swallowed. Oliver sure had a nose for trouble. From what he’d heard, Victor had a very short fuse. What was worse was he hated losing. Especially to the Luthor gang. The last time they’d gone up against Victor and his gang, they’d managed to get a good haul from a bank before Victor’s gang could. Angered by their failure, Victor had shot one of his men in the head.

He drank the rest of his sarsaparilla and watched as Bruce knocked back the contents of his glass, shuddering a little. Clark had tasted whiskey and, even with his high tolerance for things like alcohol, it had made him want to puke.

Cobblepot ambled into the back room and Bruce followed.

“C’mon Kid,” he said.

Clark reluctantly followed his friend. There was a loud expletive from the room and a crash, which sent them running. Two men stood facing each other, one very red-faced in anger. Clark glanced at the other man. Blond-haired Oliver Queen stood looking calm, his six-gun in his hand.

“You were cheating!” his opponent accused.

Clark turned his gaze on the other man. Victor was tall and broad-shouldered. His hair was in a short, clipped style which only emphasised his square face and the small wire-rimmed spectacles he wore.

Cobblepot moved to stand behind Victor, his own gun pointed at Oliver. Bruce and Clark moved behind Oliver, their own guns ready. 

“It’s called a bluff, Victor,” Oliver smirked. “Can’t help it if you’re a lousy poker player.”

“Why you …” Victor began angrily, lunging for Oliver.

Bruce cocked his gun. 

“Don’t even think about it Fries. You make one wrong move and we’ll shoot.”

Cobblepot sneered at them.

“Heh, no you wouldn’t. You ain’t never killed nobody.”

Clark shot his friend a look. Bruce’s expression suggested he might just start with these two. He’d always known his friend hated Victor and his gang, but they were lawmen now. They couldn’t just shoot Cobblepot even if he did threaten them. 

“Maybe they haven’t, but I have,” the barkeep said behind Cobblepot. “And I will shoot your ass full of buckshot if you don’t leave right now.”

Victor turned his glare on the man, but the barkeep didn’t back down, threatening the two outlaws with his rifle. They were outnumbered and they knew it, but it didn’t stop Victor turning and glaring at Oliver.

“This isn’t over,” he hissed. 

“Come back any time, Victor,” Oliver smirked. “I don’t mind taking you for every penny.”

The barkeep continued to hold the rifle on the two men as they went out, grumbling. Tina and the other prostitute came in, licking their lips. The second girl was blonde. She immediately wound herself around Clark, who had put his gun back in his belt.

“My, you’re a pretty one,” she cooed.

Bruce pushed Tina away, annoyed at the girls. He wanted to rip the other girl’s hands off his friend, but knew this wasn’t the appropriate place for it. Clark looked uncomfortable as the blonde cupped his crotch.

“What about me, Alicia?” Oliver said, pouting.

Bruce smirked at his friend. Oliver always did have an eye for the ladies, but he was smart enough to know never to sleep with prostitutes. 

The barkeep returned with a tray of glasses and a bottle of whiskey for Bruce and Oliver and more sarsaparilla for Clark. He sent Bruce a meaningful look. Just because Edge part-owned the saloon, it didn’t mean they could waltz in whenever they pleased and cause trouble.

“We ain’t here to cause trouble,” Bruce told him quietly. 

The other man shrugged and went out. The two prostitutes quickly lost interest when they didn’t get a response and went to find some other poor sucker.

Oliver poured them both a shot of whiskey, smirking at Clark.

“Not drinking, Kid?”

Clark shook his head. “I hate that stuff.”

“Ahh, you get used to it,” he said, knocking back the contents of his glass. Bruce watched his friend warily, picking up his own glass and drinking.

“What’s goin’ on, boys?” Oliver asked.

Bruce inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly. He didn’t want to tell Oliver the truth, but his friend always seemed to be able to pick up when they were lying. 

The blond was a few months older than Bruce. He’d been with the gang the longest out of all of the younger ones, except for Lex, since his parents had died when he was nine.

“We’re looking for the rest of the gang,” Clark said.

“That so?”

“Yeah, that’s so.”

“Well, you just missed Lefty by two days. Said he was heading up north.” Oliver looked at them keenly. “He told me you two were supposed to have come back with a good haul from the Junction City train.”

Bruce knew if they’d run into Lex, he would have asked why they hadn’t brought back what they’d stolen from the train. The fact that they had nothing to bring back was going to look suspicious, even to their friend, who thoroughly disliked Lex. 

“It was a trap,” Bruce told him. “There were lawmen on the train.”

“How’d you get away?” he asked. “Or do I even need to ask?” he added, looking pointedly at Clark. 

Bruce shot his friend a look. Clark looked back, then shifted his gaze back to Oliver.

“We got away,” he said stiffly. “That’s all you need to know.”

“So why’d it take you three days to get here?”

“We didn’t want to call attention to ourselves,” Bruce replied. “Unlike some, who seem to like starting gunfights in the middle of a saloon.”

Oliver smirked.

“Hey, can I help it if Victor can’t bluff to save his life? Or his money?”

“You should know better than to take on Fries and his gang. There’s a reason they call him Mr Freeze. The man’s as cold as ice.”

“He’s even worse when you cross him,” Clark told Oliver. “Or did you forget what happened to one of his men last year?”

Oliver poured them two more shots and gestured for Bruce to drink up. 

“What about the others?” Bruce prompted.

“Jason’s in town. He and Jack were holed up over at Arkham Hotel. I heard tell they were planning on robbing the First Metropolis bank, but I don’t know when.”

Bruce glanced at Clark. They had to stop Jason and Jack from carrying out their plan. He figured the best thing to do would be to send a telegram to the governor’s office. 

“Where’re Morgan and Carmine?” Clark asked. Bruce nodded imperceptibly, pleased at the casual way Clark managed to ask the question. 

Oliver shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe they hauled ass out of state. Last I heard, they had some big shot marshal by the name of Earp on their tails.”

“What’re you planning?”

Oliver shrugged again.

“Heck, I’m just happy playin’ the tables, my friend.”

That, at least, was something. If Oliver was staying out of trouble, then they could at least not tell the governor about him. Oliver might be an outlaw, but like them, he had never hurt anyone in the course of a robbery and wasn’t out to kill anyone either.

Bruce managed to talk the barkeep into giving them a room upstairs. The man looked at him thoughtfully but didn’t comment on the fact they only needed one room.

Clark undressed and crawled into bed naked. Bruce stripped off his own clothes and got in beside his lover, holding him close.

“We gotta stop Jason and Jack,” Clark said quietly. “If we don’t, someone’s likely to get killed.”

“I figure we send a telegram to Governor Gordon in the morning, tell him what we hear.”

“Yeah, but by the time the governor sends his marshals, they could have robbed the bank and run by then.”

“You’re right. What do you want to do?”

“Well, I guess we still send word to him, but we find them first and stop them.”

Clark was quiet for a while. For a minute, Bruce thought his lover and fallen asleep.

“What about Ollie?” Clark said softly.

“If he’s happy playing the tables, we should let him be. I mean, it doesn’t look like he’s out to rob anybody." Bruce knew it contradicted what he'd said earlier, but he didn't really want Oliver to go to jail. He might be an outlaw, but he was still a good man. "‘Sides, it’s not really him the governor wants.”

“It’s Lex,” Clark finished.


	7. Lex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forced to leave the Atlantis, Clark, Bruce and Oliver seek shelter with Lana and discover Lex hasn't left the city at all. Lex has a nasty surprise for them.

The morning started badly. The two prostitutes had obviously found some other poor suckers to con and had them spend the night. Tina came out of her room screaming blue murder just before dawn, saying the customer had tried to strangle her in her sleep.

The barkeep had come out of his room at the back of the saloon, still in his skivvies, his jaw rough with stubble. 

“What in the name of …” he began as Tina ran down the stairs, her long hair a mess of tangled curls. 

Clark had stumbled out of his own room, scrambling to get his trousers up, having heard the ruckus. He stood at the top of the stairs as Tina began crying hysterically, then glanced in the room the prostitute had been using. The customer was lying on his back on the floor, a bloodstain blooming on his chest. 

Bruce came out, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn’t shaved in a week and his stubble had started to turn into a beard. 

The barkeep looked up at them and shook his head. Don’t get involved, the look said. 

Bruce tugged on his arm and Clark looked at his partner.

“We should get out of here before he gets the sheriff,” he murmured.

“But what about …” Clark glanced at Tina, then back at Bruce.

“That’s not our job. C’mon,” he added, tugging at Clark’s arm again. “If the sheriff finds us here no amnesty’s gonna protect us. He’ll send for Marshal White.”

Clark sighed. It felt like bad luck was following them wherever they went lately. He had to wonder if someone had it in for them. Or else someone was dogging them. 

They returned to their room to quickly dress and gather their things. Oliver joined them on the landing, looking bleary-eyed. Clark figured he’d been up late at the tables. 

They left the saloon, and just in time, Clark thought, as the lawmen arrived to take care of the dead man. It was still too early and they were hungry, but there were no other saloons open. The three of them looked at each other, trying to figure out what to do. 

They discussed heading to the livery stables to get their horses and ride out, but Oliver was definitely in no shape to be riding. He’d clearly been drinking a little too much the night before. They needed coffee at least so they could sober him up.

Bruce started at a ‘hsst’ coming from a boarding house about a block from the saloon. Clark felt a tug on his arm and he looked to see a handsome woman about his age with long, black hair. She was clearly beckoning them.

He glanced at his partner, then grabbed Oliver’s arm, pushing him up the steps to the house. The woman held the door open for them, ushering them inside and making them sit at the table in the kitchen.

“Don’t make too much noise,” she said. “My boarders are still asleep.”

She put a coffee pot on the stove and left it to brew, putting cornbread and jam on a plate and placing it in front of them. 

“Most kind of you, ma’am,” Bruce said, smiling at her.

She just nodded and turned back to the stove, making sure there was enough wood to generate sufficient heat. 

The coffee and food had the desired effect as Oliver began to look more awake. Clark looked gratefully at the woman.

“Thank you,” he said, as she refilled his coffee.

“Heard there was trouble at the Atlantis,” she told him with a shrug. 

Clark frowned at her. A woman such as herself shouldn’t be concerned with such things, he thought. 

The screen door on the porch banged and a man came in.

“Mornin’ Miss Lana,” he said, none too quietly.

Bruce immediately rose to his feet, taking his gun from his belt and pointing it at the man. Clark stared, realising what had startled his partner. The man was someone who sometimes fed them information about the local lawmen. There had been a few times now when his information hadn’t been so solid and they’d felt as if they’d been led into a trap. It was little wonder Bruce didn’t trust him.

Whitney put his hands up, looking uneasy. Clark stood up, facing the tow-headed man. Lana immediately moved in-between them, effectively putting herself in the line of fire.

“There’ll be none of that in my house,” she told Bruce firmly.

Bruce had a stubborn set to his jaw, glaring at Lana, who glared back.

“That’s enough Bruce. Put your gun down.”

Clark whirled, staring in shock at the bald-headed man.

“Lex?”

“’Morning Clark,” Lex said with a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes. He had clearly just got out of bed as he hadn’t put on a shirt and was just wearing trousers over his underwear. “Bruce, I said put your gun down. Now!”

Bruce glanced at him, then nodded slowly and put his gun away. With a look of relief on her face, Lana went to Lex, who wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her hard. 

Frowning, Clark remembered hearing that their leader had a mistress in town. Clearly Lana was his mistress. 

“Oliver, I see you’ve been hitting the bottle again,” Lex observed. 

Oliver still looked bleary-eyed, although he was a lot more aware than he had been earlier.

“Uh, yeah, boss.”

“It was a good thing I had Whitney here to keep an eye on things. I always knew Tina could be trouble.”

“We thought you were gone up north?” Bruce said.

“Merely a ruse,” Lex told him casually. “I heard Marshal White was in town and I wanted to throw him off the track. Speaking of whom, he’s at the Atlantis right now, talking to our friendly barkeep. Seems he’s been chasing you boys since Granville.” He shook his head and sighed. “Looks like you two just can’t seem to keep out of trouble.”

“Sorry boss,” Clark said quietly.

“We’ll talk about this later. Lana, how many in the house?”

“Just a couple. They’ll be gone soon.”

“Good. We don’t want them calling in the law, now do we? Give the boys a couple of rooms for now.”

She looked at Lex uncertainly, then at the three of them. 

“It’s just until the guests have gone,” he told her. “Do it, Lana. Don’t argue.”

Biting her lip, she led them upstairs, opening a couple of doors. Clark grasped his partner’s arm, tugging him into one of the rooms, while Oliver went into another. 

Clark took off his boots and lay on the bed. It was a little narrow but they could make do. Bruce stretched out beside him. 

“So that’s the mistress,” he said, sounding tired. 

“Yeah.”

“Funny, she don’t seem like his kind.”

“What kind is that?” Clark whispered in his lover’s ear. 

He felt his lover’s hand on his crotch. Bruce pulled at his trousers, unfastening them and slipping his hand in the gap. Clark moaned softly as his cock began to harden. His lover moved down the bed, taking the head in his mouth and licking in almost a lazy motion. Clark moaned again as he thrust his hips up into the wet warmth of his partner’s mouth.

He combed his fingers through Bruce’s hair as his lover sucked his cock, trying to quiet his moans. Bruce hummed as he took the shaft deep into his mouth, which set off small vibrations. 

“Roll over,” Bruce told him, pulling off. “Get your trousers off.”

Clark worked quickly to strip his pants off. They hadn’t been able to do much the night before and he had to admit he always slept better after they’d made love. 

He rolled onto his stomach, his cock still hard and leaking on the bed cover. Bruce lay over him, using spit to slick his fingers, quickly opening him up. They never wasted much time on foreplay since they never knew when they would be interrupted. He groaned quietly as he felt the blunt pressure before Bruce pushed inside him, grunting. 

“Get up,” he commanded. “Hands and knees.”

Clark complied, pushing back against his lover until Bruce was fully seated inside him. He braced himself as his partner began to thrust hard. Both men groaned, desperate for release.

Bruce closed his hand around Clark’s shaft, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. Clark cried out, the stimulation already too much and came.

They curled up together, dozing with their arms around each other. Clark was just about asleep when he heard a bed creaking and a woman moaning. When he heard Lex’s voice, he realised it was Lex and Lana in the other room. They’d clearly had the same idea. 

Lex summoned them about an hour later, telling them Lana’s boarders were gone. They dressed and went downstairs. Oliver was looking less hungover and Bruce had managed to shave his whiskers. 

As soon as Oliver sat down with the coffee Lana served them, Lex smacked him hard on the back of the head.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Mr Freeze?” he growled. “You wanna play the tables, fine, but stay away from Freeze and his gang.” He turned on Bruce. Clark shrank away from his glare.

“Now, what happened to the train?”

“It was a trap,” Bruce told him. “Lawmen …”

He yelped as Lex grabbed his ear and pulled hard.

“I don’t want excuses!”

“Boss,” Clark said desperately. “It’s not an excuse. There really were lawmen.”

“Yeah? And how did you get away? Don’t tell me. You used your abilities!”

Clark glanced uneasily at Lana, but she didn’t appear to have noticed. He looked down. “Uh, yeah.”

Lex shoved Bruce away and pulled Clark by the collar of his shirt. 

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, now would you Clark?”

“No boss,” he replied, trying to look the bald man straight in the eyes. 

“Fine. I’ll believe you. Just to prove there are no hard feelings, I have another job which I want you two to take care of. And I want no slip ups this time.”

“Sure boss,” Bruce said, shooting Clark a warning look. “What’s the job?”

“Wells Fargo are shipping a load of cash money from their New York headquarters to California and they’ll be stopping in Metropolis overnight tomorrow night. The shipment is worth at least a hundred grand.”

Oliver whistled.

“That’s a lot of money,” he said.

“Yes, it is. And I want it.”

“How do you know about the shipment?” Clark asked curiously.

“The same way I know about everything that comes through here,” Lex told him, without elaborating. “You get me that money and I’ll overlook Junction City.” He paused and looked at Bruce. “But make sure you leave no witnesses.”

Bruce shook his head. “Boss, you know we don’t kill anyone if it ain’t …”

“That’s all going to change,” Lex said. “Lionel might have let you two get off easy, but I’m your leader now and you will do things my way, or I’ll make sure you’ll both be taking a dirt nap. Is that understood?”

Bruce’s face flushed. Clark could tell his partner didn’t like being told what to do.

“Yes boss,” he said, clearly biting on his lip to hold back his temper. 

***

Bruce fumed quietly as Lex gave them all the information they would need to rob the shipment. Clark kept giving him uneasy looks and he shook his head imperceptibly. They had to at least go along with it until Lex let them go. 

“Uh, boss, we should, um, go and get supplies.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll stay here where I can keep an eye on you. Anything you need, Whitney can fetch it.”

“But …”

“That’s an order Bruce. I don’t want you messing this up.” He turned to Oliver. “What’s this I hear about Jason and Jack?”

“They were planning on robbing the First Metropolis today. I don’t know when exactly.”

“Jason’s likely to get himself killed.” Lex shrugged. “Still, it’s no loss.”

Bruce saw Clark frowning at Lex’s callousness. This was one of the things he’d been talking about with his partner. Lex didn’t care about the gang. Maybe Lionel hadn’t either, but he had never been that callous. 

Lana turned from the stove and looked at Lex.

“I need some more wood,” she said.

“Clark, go out and cut some more wood,” the leader ordered. “Whitney, show him where.”

Grumbling, Clark did as he was told, following Whitney outside. Bruce watched him go. Clearly Lex didn’t trust them on their own. He was more interested in getting the money. 

He sat at the table, drinking coffee, trying to think of a way around the situation, spending time listening in to the conversation between Lex, Lana and Oliver, hoping to learn as much as possible about their leader’s mistress.

He had a feeling that Lex knew they were lying. The question was, how much did he really know?

Clark returned with the wood, piling it in the basket Lana pointed him to, then turned to go back upstairs. He shot a glance at Bruce, who stood up.

“Me and Clark will be up in our room,” he told Lex. 

“Fine. Stay there until I call for you so we can go over the plan for tomorrow night.”

Bruce followed his partner upstairs and closed the door to the room they’d used earlier.

“How are we supposed to stop Jason?” Clark asked.

Bruce went to the writing desk and searched through it for some paper. He found a pen and dipped it in ink, quickly scribbling on the paper.

_Joker and Teague planning to rob First Met. Stop. Sending Kid. Stop. Lefty in Metropolis. Stop. Potter House. Stop._

“What’s it say?” Clark asked.

“I told him what we agreed on last night. Go, Clark. Find the telegraph office and send it. Then go to the bank and stop Jason and Jack. Do whatever it takes. I’ll do my best to cover for you here.”

Clark looked worried. 

“What if Lex figures out I’m gone?”

“It’s a chance I’ll have to take,” Bruce told him. “You need to get this off to the governor.”

“I can’t do this without you, Bruce.”

Bruce took his hand and squeezed it.

“Yes, you can, Clark. I trust you. I believe in you. Now go.”

Clark bent and kissed him quickly, then took the paper and sped out the door, almost creating a whirlwind in his wake.

Bruce just hoped Lex didn’t catch on too quickly. God only knew what the boss would say if he figured out what Clark had gone to do. 

He decided the best way to stop Lex from finding out too soon was to return downstairs. He quickly mussed the bedclothes, moulding the pillows as best he could into the figure of a man. It was dim in the room, but not so dim that it would fool anyone inspecting too closely.

He made his way back down the stairs. Lex and Oliver were discussing another job. Oliver was clearly reluctant.

“C’mon, boss, I just wanna …”

“I know what you want to do, Oliver, but I need you on this job. Edge and Falcone have disappeared on me and there is no one else.”

“Why not Jason? Or Jack?”

“Face it, those two aren’t exactly the smartest, or the sanest.” He looked up, seeing Bruce standing in the doorway, and frowned.

“Where’s Clark?”

“Sleeping. He hasn’t been sleeping so well lately, what with Marshal White on our trail.”

“Yeah, well the kid needs to get a thicker skin.”

“He’s fine, boss. He’s just tired is all.”

“Well, he better not sleep all day. We still have to go over the plan for tomorrow night.”

“We know what to do, Lex, I mean boss!”

Lex’s grey-eyed gaze was coolly assessing.

“Do you now?” he said. “You also think you can lead this gang better than me?”

“No, boss,” Bruce replied. “I just …”

He found himself up against the wall. Lex was about the same height as him, or maybe just a little shorter, yet he was more intimidating. 

“You think maybe you and Clark want to go out on your own? Start up your own gang, perhaps?”

“No, we …”

“Spare me the protestations, Bruce. You have always thought yourself better than me, but let me remind you who is in charge here.”

“If Lionel was alive, I doubt he would have picked you as his successor,” Bruce said coldly. “He always thought you were weak!”

Lex’s eyes widened. Bruce swallowed hard as the gang leader pulled out his revolver and pressed the muzzle to his jaw.

“Weak?” he snarled. “If I’m so weak, then how is it I’m still alive and Lionel is the one eating dirt.”

“Because you shot him in the back!” Bruce shouted, immediately regretting opening his mouth. The last thing he’d wanted to do was let Lex know that he knew the truth about Lionel’s death.

The words were already out there and he couldn’t take it back. Lex stood back, his face a mask of fury. He dropped his gun on the table and hit Bruce with a hard punch to the jaw. Bruce felt his lip split and blood poured from his nose.

“You were always jealous of me!” Lex growled.

Bruce smirked at him as he wiped the blood from his face with his shirt.

“Jealous? Of you? Why? Because you had a murderer for a father? You think I cared less about your old man? He had my parents killed and he probably killed Clark’s folks too.”

Bruce heard Oliver’s gasp but chose to ignore the blond.

“You’re reaching.”

“Am I? Then why were Edge and Falcone always so afraid of him? You know, I used to think Lionel was bad enough but he didn’t count on his own son shooting him in the back.”

“You have nothing!” Lex hissed. “But since you believe me capable of such a thing, I would watch my own back if I were you, Bruce. You never know when someone might shoot you in the back.”

“We’re done,” Bruce hissed back. “Soon as this job is over, Clark and me, we’re out of here.”

“Oh no, this is far from over. In fact, I have a little insurance policy which will guarantee your loyalty. Whitney!”

Bruce heard the sounds of struggles and whirled to face the door. Whitney came in, accompanied by another man. They each had their hands on two women, their wrists bound behind their backs and their mouths gagged. 

Oh god, no! Lois! Chloe!

“You son of a …”

Lex picked up his gun and waved it casually.

“Careful, Bruce. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to your little girlfriends, now would I?”

He strode over to them. Chloe whimpered as he used the muzzle of his gun to stroke her cheek, his other hand cupping her breast. Bruce started forward, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He looked at Oliver, who shook his head.

Lex stopped groping Chloe and looked around at him. 

“You will do what I tell you from here on in, Bruce, or both women are dead. Do I make myself clear?”

Bruce swallowed hard, watching helplessly as the two women were dragged out by Whitney and his partner.


	8. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark follows through with the plan to stop the bank robbery, but Lex still has his bargaining chip

Clark made it to the telegraph office, only to find out it was closed and shut up tight. He couldn’t read the notice on the door so had no idea what had happened. Bruce had been adamant that he needed to warn the governor about Lex, but he had no idea what else to do, short of running to the next town to find their telegraph office. 

He looked around. There were a few people on the street, but no one seemed to be paying him any attention. 

There was no point in going back to the house. It wasn’t safe with Lex there. The last thing either of them needed was for Lex to discover what they were doing and who they were working for. 

A woman stepped up to the door of the office and sighed. Clark tipped his hat to her.

“’Morning ma’am.”

She turned and looked at him, her gaze assessing. She seemed concerned about the gun in the holster at his hip.

“Are you a bank robber?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m a deputy marshal.”

“Oh,” she said, seeming much happier.

She was a handsome woman with long reddish-blonde hair. She had a little more meat on her bones than most. Clark rather liked that. 

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Clark.”

“I’m Jodi.”

He tipped his hat once again and stepped off the sidewalk with her, taking her arm to walk her across the street, avoiding the areas where horses had defecated. 

“I was going to send a telegram to my fiancé,” she said. “He’s at Fort Leavenworth. I’m hoping to join him in a few days, but it takes so long to send a letter.” She looked back at the office. “The telegraph office is closed due to a death in the family.”

Leavenworth had a telegraph office. Clark had been to the city before and thought he knew where it was. Clark knew what he had to do. He could help the lady out at the same time.

“Well, it just so happens I am headed up to Leavenworth on the next train. I sure wouldn’t mind taking your telegram to your fiancé.”

She brightened. 

“Would you? Oh, thank you,” she said. “You are such a kind man.”

“It’s no problem, ma’am,” he told her. 

Leavenworth was roughly forty miles from Metropolis and he could run there in a couple of minutes, he thought. 

Jodi gave him her fiance’s name and told him where he could find the man. He walked her to the boarding house where she was staying and she insisted on giving him a couple of biscuits. For the journey, she said. 

He left her with a smile, making sure he couldn’t be seen before launching into super-speed. He arrived at Leavenworth in a short time and quickly managed to locate someone who promised to pass on Jodi’s message. They also pointed him to the telegraph office. The operator frowned at him as he entered.

“I need to send a telegram to Governor James Gordon,” he said.

The man stared at him over thin spectacles.

“And you are?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The man pursed his lips and glanced at the wall to Clark’s right. He followed the gaze and was dismayed to see a wanted poster with his likeness on it. It wasn’t exactly the best likeness. 

Clark dug in his pocket and showed the man the badge the governor had given both him and Bruce to cover them in situations like this.

“There,” he said. “Now send it.”

The man looked at the shield, then at the paper with Bruce’s telegram on it.

“Very well,” he said.

Clark stayed long enough to watch him send the telegram, then took his badge and left the office. He knew there was no way to tell what message the man had really sent. For all Clark knew, he’d sent a telegram to Marshal White, instead of the governor. Clark would be long gone before that happened.

He glanced around again to make sure he was alone and took off at speed back to Metropolis. 

All was quiet near the bank when he arrived back in the city. There was no sign of any robbery, which had to mean Jason and Jack hadn’t robbed it yet. Clark looked up, checking the position of the sun. It was late morning. The bank hadn’t been open that long, so he guessed they wouldn’t have done much business yet. 

He decided to set himself up under the shade of a boarded up shop and wait.

The gang had robbed the First Metropolis bank about three years earlier. Jason hadn’t been with them then and Clark had still been reluctant to force anyone to give up their money. Bruce had assured him it would be fine as they both followed their boss’ lead. 

He wondered what Bruce would have said to Lex. It seemed strange that Lex would have told Oliver he was heading up north but he’d really been in town all along. He was sure it had nothing to do with Lex’s mistress.

It felt like he was missing something. Like something that was behind all the bad luck they’d had following them since Granville. He wondered if perhaps Lex had a spy among the lawmen. Clark wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the looks Lex had been giving them. He knew more than he was saying.

He heard the sound of horses galloping and looked up from his hiding place in time to see two men wearing bandannas over their faces pull the animals to a halt just outside the bank. Both of them took out their guns. 

Clark narrowed his eyes, focusing on the taller of the two men. Jack. The two men looked around quickly before going into the bank, guns drawn. Clark waited a few seconds, hearing them yelling that it was a stick-up. 

There was a scream from what sounded like a young woman. Clark focused his vision again, seeing through the wood and brick into the bank. He was shocked to realise the young woman who had screamed was Jodi. Jason had grabbed her, wrapping his arm around her neck and holding the gun on her, threatening the half-dozen people inside the bank, including the employees.

Jodi was crying, begging Jason to let her go. Jack turned on her, shoving the muzzle of his gun into her face.

“Shut up!” he growled.

Incensed, Clark went into action, speeding into the bank behind the two men. He squinted at the guns in the men’s hands, heating them up so they were forced to drop them, then moved as fast as a whirlwind, shoving them both hard enough to send them flying across the room.

He knew it was a risk. Both Jack and Jason knew he had strange abilities, although they were not aware of the full scope of them. Then again, neither man was that bright. Clark just couldn’t allow them to hurt an innocent girl.

He paused long enough to make sure that Jodi was all right before speeding out again. He glanced once more at the sky. The sun was directly overhead which meant it was noon. There was no way Bruce could continue to cover for him with Lex, who was way too smart to be fooled for long. 

***

Bruce glanced anxiously toward the stairs, wondering what was keeping Clark. Lex and Oliver were still discussing the job Lex wanted him to do and Lana was busy at the stove, making coffee. She’d baked fresh bread which was now cooling.

Lex paused in the discussion and looked up at him.

“Clark gonna sleep all day?” he said with a scowl.

“Maybe I should go check on him,” Bruce said.

“You do that.”

Before Bruce could get up and leave, Whitney came in and approached Lex, whispering something in his ear. Lex nodded and whispered something back but did nothing. Whitney went out again, smirking at Bruce as he passed by. Bruce frowned at him, wanting to know what that was all about.

If the girls had been hurt in any way, he was going to make sure Whitney paid. With a bullet. Bruce had always refused to kill, but in that case, he could make an exception.

He brushed past Lana and went upstairs, checking the room. The bed hadn’t been disturbed that he could see, but that meant nothing. 

“Clark, where are you?” he said softly, looking out the window over the city street.

There was a whooshing sound and Clark was suddenly right in front of him.

“I did it,” he said. “I stuck around long enough to see the sheriff and his deputies take them to jail.”

“Good, but we’ve got another problem.”

“Clark, you’re finally awake.”

Bruce whirled, startled. How long had Lex been standing there? Clark ran a hand through his hair, mussing it.

“Uh, yeah, boss, sorry about that. I was kinda beat.”

“Well, come downstairs. Lana has cooked us some lunch. Then the three of us have something to discuss. Don’t we Bruce?” Lex said, looking pointedly at him.

They had no choice but to follow their leader downstairs for lunch where Lana served them up baked beans and the fresh bread. Bruce had to admit she was a good cook. 

He’d learned through listening to Lex that he’d taken Lana as a lover when she was fifteen. Lionel hadn’t approved of the relationship, telling Lex there was no room for attachments. Lex’s own mother had been a girl in the city and Lionel had never married her. She’d died not long after giving birth.

After lunch, Lex sent Oliver out on an errand and sat on the porch, smoking a cigar. 

“You two gonna stand around in there all day?” he called through the open door. “Get out here!”

Clark frowned at Bruce, clearly wondering what was up and why Lex sounded so angry. 

They stood out on the porch, facing their leader.

“Boss?”

“Do you think I’m a fool, Bruce? Do you think I don’t know when you’re plotting against me?”

“Boss, I don’t know what you’re …”

“Don’t lie to me! I know about the bank robbery! I had a man following Jason and Jack. He saw Clark watching the bank!”

“Boss, that’s not …”

Clark tried to cover for himself, but even he knew the game was up.

“If you two weren’t the best at what you do, I would put a bullet between your eyes right now. Not that it would hurt you, would it Clark?”

Clark shook his head. Bruce chewed his lip as he glanced at his friend, then back at Lex.

“You will do the job tomorrow night and then we will discuss your future. I’m warning you now, though. If you two try anything, you know what will happen.”

Clark looked puzzled. “What?”

“Bruce didn’t tell you,” Lex said, smirking as he puffed on his cigar. “Go ahead Bruce. Tell him what will happen if you fail to do as I ask.”

Bruce sighed and turned to Clark.

“He has Lois and Chloe. He’ll kill them if we don’t do the Wells Fargo job tomorrow night.”

Clark’s eyes turned amber and Bruce knew what that meant. He was angry enough to turn a heated gaze on Lex, who sneered at him.

“Careful, Clark. We wouldn’t want you losing your temper. Believe me, you would not enjoy the consequences.”

“You son of a … you let them go!”

“You are not in a position to make demands on me, Clark! I will do whatever I please with them. Especially that Lois. Seems rather a feisty one. I’m going to enjoy breaking her.”

“Don’t you touch her!” he growled.

Lex raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ooh, getting rather possessive, aren’t we Clark?” He smirked. “And here I thought it was just you and Bruce.”

Before Bruce could stop him, Clark had pulled his gun out and aimed it at Lex, who looked back at him coolly.

“Going to shoot me, Clark? If you do, you’ll never find the girls. Alive, anyway. If anything happens to me, Whitney’s boys are under strict instructions that they are to slit the girls’ throats. So threaten me all you like.” He continued to gaze at him coolly. “’Sides, we both know you’d never pull that trigger. You don’t have the heart for it. Or the stomach.”

He rose from the porch swing and threw his cigar stub on the ground, walking down the steps. Clark stared after him, his hand shaking on the butt of his gun, his expression still furious. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Clark murmured.

Bruce looked at his friend. For Clark to say such a thing, given how much he had practically hero-worshipped Lex, he had to be extremely angry. Clark straightened up as if to go after their leader. Bruce put out a hand and grasped his partner’s wrist before he could go after Lex. While he echoed the sentiment, he didn’t want to take any chances on the girls’ lives. 

“Don’t be stupid, Clark. We can’t take the chance that he’s bluffing.”

“How do you know he’s got them?”

“Because Whitney brought them here.”

“So, why don’t we ask Whitney where they are?”

“Then he’ll go back to Lex and Lex will order Whit to kill them. Think about it, Clark.”

His friend sighed.

“You know, I knew he wasn’t telling us everything.”

“Yeah, seems like he’s had someone following us since Granville.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That Lex has one of the marshals in his pocket? Yeah, me too.”

“So, how do we find out which one?”

Bruce sighed. He had no idea. Since Lex was obviously watching their every move, neither one of them could disappear for any length of time. The only thing they could do was use Clark’s hearing ability. 

Forced to wait it out, they sat in the house talking with Oliver. Their friend wasn’t due to ride out until the next morning. He seemed worried.

“What’s going on between you and the boss?” he asked.

“Nothing. Stay out of it, Oliver.”

“Does it have anything to do with those girls?”

Bruce huffed. Of course Oliver would have noticed the girls, but he at least was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. 

Bruce remembered his earlier resolve not to include Oliver in the men they were employed to hunt down. Of course, that could change if he went out and did the job Lex was expecting him to do.

Oliver was watching them expectantly.

“Look, it’s nothing to do with you,” Clark said tersely. “So stay out of it.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be your friend, Clark. Ain’t no need to get all riled up just ‘cause the boss …”

“He’s gonna kill them if we don’t do as we’re told,” Clark blurted. Bruce shot him a warning look but Clark ignored it.

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked with a frown. “Lex wouldn’t … not women.”

“Oh come on,” Bruce told him. “The man shot his old man in the back. You think he wouldn’t stoop so low to involve women? Of course he would.”

“No, that can’t be right.”

Lana came through the door, carrying some linen. She had an odd expression on her face and Bruce wondered if she’d been listening to the conversation. She was pale and looked a little scared.

He got up as she passed and grabbed her arm. She winced visibly and he pulled up her sleeve. She had a dark bruise in the shape of a hand.

“Did Lex do this?” he said.

She chewed on her lip, her brown-eyes darting this way and that.

“Lex ain’t here,” Clark said. “He went out.”

Bruce released her arm and spoke kindly to the young woman.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. Did Lex do that?”

She nodded. It seemed fairly clear what was going on here. Lex clearly thought nothing of beating women, although he was obviously careful not to let it show on her face.

“Why did he beat you?” Bruce asked.

Lana shook her head. “I can’t. He’ll kill me.”

“What did you do, Lana?”

She looked grieved for a moment.

“This house … was my aunt’s. She took me in after my parents died. When Lex … when he took me, my aunt didn’t like it. So he shot her.”

Clark made a disgusted noise. Bruce looked at his partner. You see, his expression said. You see now what Lex is capable of?

Oliver looked horrified. While there wasn’t a lot of love lost between Oliver and Lex, he clearly hadn’t thought Lex had committed cold-blooded murder. He sat back, looking thoughtful. Lana went upstairs, taking the linen. Oliver watched her go, then got up, going upstairs. 

“We gotta find Lois and Chloe,” Clark murmured. “We gotta do something before tomorrow night, cause I ain’t gonna rob that shipment.”

“Well, if you have suggestions, I’d like to hear them,” Bruce told him. 

Neither one of them had a chance to discuss the situation as Lex returned from wherever he’d been. He glowered at them but said nothing, going upstairs. 

Next thing they knew, there were raised voices. Clark’s eyes widened.

“It’s Lex. He’s yelling at Lana, accusing her of cheating on him with Ollie.”

“What?”

Clark dashed upstairs before Bruce could blink. There were more raised voices and a loud bang which Bruce assumed was a gun going off. He ran, making it to the second floor in time to see that Clark had somehow got in-between Lex and Oliver. Lex’s gun was in his hand, pointed at the two men. 

Clark uncurled his fist, showing the bullet, which was clearly still warm as Bruce could see the black gunpowder on his partner’s hand. 

Lex hissed at Lana, who was cowering behind Oliver.

“Get downstairs and get cooking the supper, woman!”

She tried to edge past him and he backhanded her across the face. She stared up at him, covering her face with her hand. Clark immediately got in his face.

“Don’t touch her like that!” he growled.

Lex just smirked at him. “What are you going to do about it, Kid? Lana is my woman and I will do what I want with her!”

“She’s just a girl,” Clark objected. 

“Get out of my face, Kid, if you know what’s good for you.”

Bruce stepped forward.

“He’s right, Lex. She’s just a girl.”

“Stay out of this, Bruce.”

“No, I won’t. I’ve never hurt a woman and I ain’t about to let you do it, either.”

Lex smiled nastily. 

“How very chivalrous of you, Bruce. Tell me, are you the same with those two tasty morsels I found languishing on that old ranch? I wonder if they would do the same for you.”

“I told you to leave them alone,” Clark snarled.

“And I warned you not to cross me, Clark,” Lex snapped. “Perhaps you both need a lesson in exactly what I am capable of.”

“What does that mean?” Bruce asked in trepidation.

“Oh, you’ll find out, I assure you,” Lex replied.


	9. Lana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark manages to get the girls away from Lex, but Lex still has tricks up his sleeve.

Clark was getting more and more furious with Lex, especially with the way he kept pawing Lana through dinner. She had seemed fine earlier that morning, but Clark was beginning to realise a lot went on behind closed doors. Lex had clearly told her to act like everything was fine between them when she was around the others.

She looked upset, and more than a little afraid of Lex. Clark wondered if something had happened in the afternoon. He had no idea whether it had anything to do with what Lex had done with Chloe and Lois.

He tried listening in on them when Lex and Lana went upstairs. He heard the creaking of the bed and Lana crying from his and Bruce’s room. Lex was speaking harshly.

“No, don’t make me do it,” Lana was telling him.

“You’ll do whatever I tell you to do,” he told her. “And stay away from Bruce and Clark.”

“They were only …”

There was a smack and she cried out in pain. Clark wanted to go to her, stop Lex from hurting her, but Bruce, aware he was listening in, put a hand on his arm.

“Ain’t gonna do any good to get in the middle of that.”

“But she’s in trouble, Bruce.”

“So are we. Lex is gonna kill Chloe and Lois whether we do the job tomorrow night or not. You know he will.”

Clark nodded and sighed. What had happened to the Lex he had grown up with, he thought. When had Lex become so … so much a monster? He seemed to be twice as bad as Lionel. He now understood a lot of things Bruce had been telling him about Lex. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now …

“We gotta find them Bruce, before he does something to hurt them.”

“Well, other than your hearing, I don’t know what else to suggest.”

Clark had already tried to track them using his super-hearing, but he hadn’t been able to get a fix on them. He had one other idea. If he could just get Lana alone, she might be able to tell him where Whitney would be keeping the girls. 

Of course, getting Lana alone was the problem. Lex hadn’t left her alone for a minute since the fight in the hallway.

He sighed and rolled over, too restless and worried about the girls to sleep. Bruce complained about him shaking the bed.

“Can’t help it,” he said. 

“Go to sleep.”

“I can’t. I can’t sleep with the girls in trouble.”

Bruce’s hand tightened on his arm. “Not sleeping ain’t gonna change that. Whit ain’t gonna do anything tonight.”

“You don’t know that.”

Clark had heard some stories about women alone on big ranches. What made it worse was what had happened the year before. While Lois and Chloe could take good care of themselves, Clark had still worried about them. They were like family to him and he wasn’t about to stand by and let something bad happen to them if he could help it. 

“You ain’t gonna find them in the dark,” his friend told him.

“You don’t even care!” he complained.

“Of course I care, Clark, but there ain’t nothing we can do tonight.”

“But you said Lex is gonna kill them, no matter what.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I said. Clark, we don’t have a choice.”

Clark shook his head and got out of bed. He couldn’t sleep without trying to do something. Whit had to have the girls stashed close by, he thought. 

He dressed quickly and slipped out the window. Bruce sat up in the bed and he paused, looking back at his lover.

“Clark, be careful. If Lex …”

“I know,” he said. 

Clark might not be the smartest guy in the world, but he had a quick mind and was able to consider the different options. Maybe he didn’t always think about the consequences of his actions, but that was why he and Bruce were so good together, because Bruce did think about those things. 

From what he remembered about Whitney, he liked talking about the whores he would sleep with in the local saloon. While it was little more than a drinking hole, Whitney liked it well enough as the owner always gave him free rotgut in exchange for him tossing out anyone who tried to cheat him. 

Of course, finding that saloon was a difficult task in itself. They’d only been in the city a few times, mostly to rob banks or stop a stage, but they generally avoided the cities as there was a greater chance of local lawmen being able to identify them. News didn’t travel well in small towns. 

Clark didn’t know the territory that well and being unable to read, he was unable to tell what the signs in the street were. Still, that didn’t stop him running through the streets, checking every outbuilding for any sign of the girls. Or every saloon in the area. 

The moon stood bright in the sky and he was about to give up when he heard what sounded like Whitney’s voice. It sounded like the man was playing poker, although from his tone, Clark wondered if he was drunk. He was slurring his words a little. 

He squinted, looking through the walls and trying to control the vision so he could see what was happening inside. He spotted Whitney, chewing on something as he held his cards in front of him, glancing up now and again at the other man at his table. Clark’s eyes widened as he realised who was sitting opposite Whitney. The man worked for Marshal White. He was a tracker of some sort, or so Clark had heard.

Clark focused his hearing, listening in on the conversation.

“So I’m guessing Marshal White don’t know nothing.”

“The man’s an old fool. Sure came in handy, following Kent and Wayne though. Thought for a bit Wayne was on to me.”

“But they ain’t never seen you with Lex.”

The other man shook his head. “Naw! Lex’d skin me alive anyway.”

“But you’re his brother.”

“Half-brother, and he don’t care none about that.”

Clark studied the man. He had thick, dark hair and a sallow complexion, bearing little resemblance to Lex. It seemed that Lionel hadn’t been so careful about his conquests if this man was Lex’s half-brother. 

As the conversation continued, Clark began to realise that the man, who he learned was named Lucas, had been pretending to work for Marshal White so he could pass on information to Lex. If that was the case, there was a good chance Lex knew about the amnesty from the governor. Which meant he and Bruce were both in a whole lot of trouble. 

“So, what’s happening with those two chippies upstairs?”

Clark strained to hear, realising as they talked that Lucas was talking about the girls. He pulled back from watching the action below and looked up to the second floor. Sure enough, there were two girls on a bed. There was a man guarding them, sitting in a wooden chair with a shotgun on his knees. From what Clark could tell, he appeared to be asleep.

He ran at super speed into the saloon, up the stairs. He knew he wouldn’t be seen but there was a good chance they might feel him going by and he did his best to keep a good distance from the men inside. As he stopped outside the door, he listened with his ear pressed against the wood. There was the sound of snoring. 

Clark carefully twisted the handle and opened the rickety door. The hinges squeaked and he paused, not even daring to breathe, but the snoring continued. He pushed open the door a little more.

Chloe was laying on one side of the bed, staring wide-eyed toward the door, clearly wondering what was going to happen to them next. Clark waved his hand as he opened the door a little wider. He checked the man in the chair and he still appeared out to it. Clark quickly approached the bed, untying the girls’ wrists. They both sat up, taking the gags off, glancing toward the guard.

Clark motioned with one hand, telling them to move quickly and quietly toward the door. They both nodded. Lois made a face as she stepped on a sagging floorboard, making it creak, glancing anxiously toward the guard. He lifted his head, smacked his lips, then seemed to fall asleep again. 

“Keep moving,” Clark mouthed and Lois nodded, moving as quickly as she could toward the door, while Chloe had grabbed his hand.

Clark froze as voices drifted up the stairs. Oh no, he thought. He knew this had been too easy. Whitney and Lucas were coming upstairs. Lucas was saying something like taking a poke at the captives. Clark knew what that meant. He turned and looked at the girls. 

“The window,” he whispered.

Lois shook her head, pointing toward the window. It was boarded over. 

Clark knew he had no choice. The girls didn’t know about his abilities, but they were about to find out. He grabbed them both, wrapping his arms around them. It was going to be awkward with the two of them but he couldn’t take one and not the other. They frowned at him, but did as they were told, holding on tightly. 

Clark supersped out of the room, letting the door swing until it was almost closed, then ran down the end of the hallway, looking for what he hoped were back stairs out of the saloon. Some saloons did, especially if there was trouble with lawmen or even the local gunslinger. He was in luck. 

He ran down the stairs and away from the saloon, putting a good distance between them, then set the girls down. They both looked unsteady on their feet.

“Wh … what was that?” Lois asked, sounding breathless.

Chloe looked scared.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Clark, what was that?” Chloe asked.

“Uh, I sort of have these, um, I can run really fast.”

“There’s running fast and then there’s running like you’re being shot out of a gun,” Lois told him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said lamely.

“Well, at least we’re away from there,” Chloe said, seeming to regain her senses. “You better start telling us what’s going on, Clark.”

“It’s Lex,” he said. “He had you kidnapped so we’d do what he wanted.”

“Which is?”

“Robbing the Wells Fargo tomorrow night, I mean, tonight.”

“What? But, what about, you know, the governor?” Lois asked.

“I think that’s why Lex did it. I think he knows.”

He quickly told the girls what he’d learned from listening to Whitney and Lucas. Both girls assured him they hadn’t been touched by either man. Clark was relieved at that. After what he’d overheard, it had been his worst fear. 

Chloe touched his arm, inhaling shakily.

“Clark, Lex had my father shot.”

He stared at her in dismay.

“What?”

“He’s dead.”

Clark shook his head. “No! No, no, no.”

“Clark, this isn’t your fault,” Lois told him.

“Isn’t it? If we hadn’t …”

“Clark, Lex did this. I know you,” Chloe told him. “You couldn’t hurt a fly and you would never have let this happen if you’d been there. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“But I can’t help it. Lex was gonna kill you both and I …”

Lois put a hand on his shoulder.

“Then you and Bruce, you gotta do your jobs, Clark. You gotta make sure Lex goes to jail.”

He nodded. He owed them at least that. He looked at them, taking a deep breath.

“I gotta get you somewhere safe,” he said.

“We can go to Lucy,” Lois said. “I bet Lex don’t know where she is.”

That sounded like a good idea, Clark thought. 

“Okay, I’ll take you there.”

“You mean by running?” Chloe asked, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Maybe we should take the train.”

Clark shook his head. “No. Whit will know you’re gone by now and he’s probably gone to get Lex. He’ll probably have the trains watched and it would take too long by stage. I have to get back to the boarding house before Lex finds out I’m gone.”

Both girls looked reluctant, but Clark knew there was no other choice. He made them both hold on to him and ran to the town where Lucy and her husband lived, stopping just outside the gate of the small house.

The two girls looked at him. Clark gazed back at them, sorrow in his expression. Lois kissed his cheek. 

“We’ll be all right,” she said. 

He bit his lip, not so sure about that. Still, both girls knew how to shoot, since they’d both been out hunting on the ranch, and they could at least defend themselves. 

“Go, Clark,” Chloe said. “You have to stop Lex.”

“Just promise you’ll look after each other,” he said.

“We promise,” Lois told him. “You and Bruce, you take care of each other too.”

He nodded. “Always.” He stepped into the shadows, staying to watch as the two girls unlatched the gate and went through, then knocked on the door of the little house. It was early in the morning and the sun was just beginning to rise, but a lamp burning in the window told him that Lucy or her husband were already up.

Clark waited until the door closed behind them, then sped off back to Metropolis. 

***

Bruce had barely slept all night, worrying about Clark and the girls. He opened his eyes a crack and peered out through the slowly lightening sky, hoping that Clark being away this long meant he had found the girls and got them somewhere safe. 

Just as he started to drift into a doze, he heard loud voices coming down the hallway. It sounded like Lex and Lana were arguing. Bruce rolled over, trying to ignore the noise, without success. There were a couple of loud bangs then a scream before a series of thuds and something falling. Bruce knew he couldn’t ignore the sounds and got up, pulling his pants up over his flannels and securing them with the suspenders.

Yawning, he went out. Oliver came out of his own room, looking a bit the worse for wear, his face unshaven, shadows under his eyes. Lana’s bedroom door was closed tight.   
Frowning, Bruce continued down the hallway, then stopped at the head of the stairs. Lana was lying at the foot of the stairs, her neck twisted. Gasping, Bruce ran down, crouching down beside her, passing a hand under her nose. It didn’t feel like she was breathing.

He lifted her but her body was as limp as a rag doll’s. There was no response.

Oliver stared from the top in horror.

“Is she …”

Bruce shook his head, laying one ear on her chest. He couldn’t hear her heart beating.

“I think she’s dead,” he told Oliver, looking up at him.

Oliver paled. He turned and walked back along the hallway. Bruce heard him banging and yelling at Lex to come out. 

Meanwhile, the main door had crashed open and Whitney ran in, along with a man Bruce remembered seeing with Marshal White and his men. He frowned at Whit, who stared wide-eyed at Lana.

“Miss Lana?” He shoved Bruce away so Bruce fell onto his ass and grabbed Lana. “What did you do to her?”

“It looks like she fell down the stairs,” Bruce told him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the other man. It looked to him like Whitney had had a thing for Lex’s mistress, only he probably never dared do anything about it, knowing she was Lex’s.

He glanced up, hearing footsteps on the stairs. Lex was watching them, his eyes wide as if he was horrified by what had happened, but Bruce caught the little smirk. He looked from Lana and back up to the bald man, remembering the shouting and the scream just a few minutes before. It was very probable that Lana hadn’t fallen, but was pushed. 

Whitney looked up as Lex came to stand beside Lana’s body.

“Uh, boss,” he said. “We got a problem.”

Lex glowered at him. “And?”

“The girls are gone.”

Lex immediately looked at Bruce.

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

Bruce hid his relief that the girls were safe. “Do with what?” he asked.

Lex immediately ran up the stairs. Bruce followed, only to find Clark coming out of the room with what looked like a bed-head, appearing to them as if he’d only just woken up.

“What’s all the noise?” he asked.

“Kid, you better have an explanation for this.”

Clark frowned at Lex.

“What did I do? I’ve been asleep.”

Bruce immediately covered for his friend. “It’s true, Lex. We were asleep. You know Clark can sleep like the dead sometimes.”

It actually was true. Bruce had the theory that Clark made up for his ability to get by without sleep by sleeping deeply when he did so.

Lex turned and glared at him before turning angrily back to Clark.

“I think you’re lying to me,” he said. “I will find out the truth, mark my words.” He turned and glared at Oliver.

“Get outside and get some wood. You …” he growled, pointing at Marshal White’s man. “Go out and get some eggs.”

“What are you gonna do about Miss Lana?” Whitney asked, sniffling a little.

Lex shrugged. “What do I care? She’s dead. Dump her body outside.”

“You ain’t even gonna bury her?” Whitney asked, his hand going to the butt of his gun in his holster. 

“Let the coyotes have her and be done with it.” He brushed past Whitney and walked outside, his strides angry. 

Bruce looked at Clark, then herded him back into the room.

“What happened?” he asked.

“They’re safe. At Lois’ sister’s house.”

“Good. They’re both all right?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah. They didn’t do nothing.”

Bruce was relieved. The last thing he’d wanted was for Chloe and Lois to be physically harmed, especially by Lex or Whit. He’d heard Whitney had beaten a girl and taken her forcefully last winter. 

“What happened to Lana?”

“From what I heard, she either fell down the stairs or Lex pushed her. They were arguing right before it happened.”

“’Cept Lex pretends he don’t know nothing about it,” Clark sighed. “The man with Whit, he’s Lex’s half-brother, Lucas.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his friend. Lionel certainly seemed to have had mistresses everywhere, despite his constant lectures to his son on the matter. 

Clark went on to explain that he’d heard Lucas and Whitney talking about Marshal White. Lucas was feeding information to Lex while working for the marshal as a tracker. Clark had figured out that Lucas had been the one sending messages to Lex while the marshal had been pursuing them across the county. Bruce realised that Lex must have known about the governor’s amnesty, which was why he’d had the girls kidnapped. 

“We gotta warn the governor,” Clark said. “We can’t warn Marshal White.”

That was true, Bruce thought. Marshal White still had it in for them and wouldn’t take kindly to any warning of a spy in his midst. The problem was getting the warning to the governor.

Another problem was Lex. If he knew about the amnesty, had he told anyone else? If not what were his reasons? 

They were called down to breakfast which was runny eggs. Lucas had clearly done his best, but he was no cook. He kept up complaints saying cooking was a woman’s job.

“I ain’t no squaw,” he grumbled.

Bruce looked at the other man, then looked toward the body by the stairs covered by a rug. The body was already beginning to smell bad, or maybe that was the eggs, he thought. Clark glanced over by the stairs and suddenly turned green. He excused himself from the table and stood up. Lex glared at him.

“Sit down, Kid.”

“Boss, I … I don’t feel so good,” he said.

Bruce frowned at his friend. Clark was definitely looking green, but none of the others looked sick.

“Something you ate, perhaps?” Lex said with a smirk, getting to his feet. “Or perhaps it is this,” he added, holding up what appeared to be a green rock. He moved closer to Clark, who suddenly collapsed, looking to be in horrific pain.

“Lex, please,” he gasped.

“Please what, Kid? Don’t? I warned you not to test me. I know you had something to do with helping those girls escape. I don’t know what you’ve done with them, but that’s no matter. I still have my ways of making you do what I tell you to do.”

“Lex, let him go,” Bruce growled.

Lex looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Or you’ll do what?”

Clark’s hand was shaking but Bruce saw he was weakly reaching for the gun in his belt. Lex kicked him and Clark fell back. Bruce went for his own gun, aiming it at Lex. 

“Gonna shoot me, Bruce?” Lex taunted.

Bruce was suddenly aware of two guns aimed at him. Oliver had also risen to his feet, taking out his own gun, aiming it at both Whitney and Lucas. Lex waved his free hand at the men.

“Relax boys. Oliver might be good, but there’s no way he can take out both of you before one of you gets off a shot. And right now, I’d rather not have to find another man for the job tonight.” He looked at Bruce. “Put your gun down, Bruce.”

“What is that?” Oliver asked, staring wide-eyed at the rock in Lex’s hand. Clark was almost crying in pain, his stomach heaving as he began retching.

“That, Oliver, is poison. At least to Clark. I discovered it when he was a small child.” He again glanced at Bruce. “I knew Clark a long time before he came to join the gang. When he was still on the farm. I doubt he’d remember, but we met a very, very long time ago. I was perhaps ten or eleven and we were playing a simple child’s game when he tripped over something and began crying.”

Lex went on to explain that he’d gone to see what had caused the fall and seen the rock. He’d picked it up, only for Clark to cry even harder, appearing to be in great pain. Clark’s cries had brought the adults running. Lionel had been visiting the farm that day, although Lex hadn’t known then why. 

“So why was he at the farm?” Bruce asked, looking down at Clark, who had a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. He seemed to be fading in and out. 

“He wanted Jonathan to give us shelter from the law. Apparently they knew each other from the war.”

Well, that explained some of it, Bruce thought, watching helplessly as Lex ordered his brother to haul Clark away. Lex turned back to them.

“Bruce, you and Oliver will take that shipment tonight. Maybe then I’ll consider letting Clark go.”

He turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Bruce started after him, but Oliver stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“You can’t help Clark. Not like this.”

“You saw how sick that rock made him, Ollie. He’ll die.”

“And Lex’ll kill us both if we don’t do what he tells us. Look at what he did to Lana.”

They both looked at the covered body on the floor. Bruce sighed. So Oliver was just as sure as he was that Lex had had something to do with Lana’s death. He recalled the fight from the night before. 

“What were you and Lana talking about last night?” he said.

“I was trying to convince her to get away from Lex. Go somewhere where she would be safe.”

“So what did she say?”

“She said she couldn’t. She was gonna have his baby. Only he told her to get rid of it.”

Bruce stared at him. Lex was probably going to make her go to one of those backwoods doctors who used a needle or something. Bruce had heard of a couple of girls who had died within days of some kind of infection after going to one. Lana had probably heard the same thing and had refused. That was probably what the fight was about.

Now she was dead, and it looked like they were going to join her soon enough. 

God, what a mess.


	10. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets help from someone he never expected and Bruce desperately tries to think of a way to stop Lex

Clark felt like his whole body was on fire. The pain was indescribable, starting in his toes and working all the way up to the top of his head. It was as if he was being stabbed with a thousand knives, all at the same time. He couldn’t move for the pain.

Lex had ordered Lucas to tie him up, leaving the green rock in his shirt. Even if Clark could move, he couldn’t see any way of getting rid of the rock. 

Lucas sat beside him, guarding him, spinning the bullet chamber of his six-gun. 

“Shouldn’t a messed with him, Kid,” he said. “Shoulda left well enough alone.”

Clark didn’t reply, afraid if he opened his mouth he would throw up. He’d already thrown up the contents of his stomach. There was nothing left but dry heaves. He was dizzy, wanting to pass out, but afraid of what would happen if he did.

He had no idea how long it had been. A few minutes? An hour? Two? All he knew was pain and fire. God, Bruce, help me, he thought. 

He rolled over and felt a muscle spasm so intense it was paralysing. His consciousness faded as his body seized. He vaguely heard Whitney’s voice.

“Geezus, what the hell?”

Clark fought against the darkness but he wasn’t strong enough for the battle. The darkness clawed at him, pulling him down and he had no choice but to let it. 

He came to with a start. Someone was shaking him awake, calling out his name.

“C’mon Kid, you gotta wake up.”

His vision was blurred as he looked up into the freckled face of the man, but couldn’t see well enough to figure out who it was. He managed to roll over, retching.

“What’d they do to you, Kid?” the voice asked with sympathy.

“Never mind that now,” a gruff voice replied. “Get those ropes off him. We need to know what Luthor’s planning.”

Clark still couldn’t identify the voices. His head swam. His body still ached and he was wet with perspiration. 

“What’s the matter with him? Is he sick?”

“That the story, Kid? You sick?”

“Rock,” Clark croaked. His arms felt free. Shakily he reached for his pocket, clumsily trying to get the green rock from it. The man who had released him must have realised what Clark was trying to do and he grabbed the rock. 

“Hey boss, what is this? It’s kinda glowing.”

“Get rid of it,” the boss said. “Throw it outside.”

Clark fell back, losing the support as the man left his side. The pain began to ease the further away the rock was. At the same time his vision began to clear and he no longer felt dizzy, well enough to sit up. He stared at the man sitting in the corner.

“Marshal White?”

“Sure was a close call, Kid. You looked like you’d about had it.”

Jimmy Olsen returned from outside and smiled down at Clark.

“Hey, you look better already. What was that thing?”

“I don’t know,” Clark said, shaking his head. “All I know is it made me real sick.”

He saw Whitney and Lucas tied up in the corner. Both were glaring at the marshal.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

“Ain’t nothing to get, Kid. Governor Gordon sent me to find you. I knew as soon as my man Dunleavy here upped and disappeared on me something bad had gone down.”

Clark stared at him, confused. Marshal White hated them. He’d heard him say he wasn’t going to honour the Governor’s orders. 

“Olsen, stay and guard these two. Kid, come on outside. Looks like you could use a drink.”

“Yessir, boss,” Jimmy said.

Clark stumbled outside, still feeling weak. The sun was high in the sky and he blinked in the bright light. It must be about noon, he thought. White made him sit on the wooden bench on the porch outside the Potter house, then ordered another of his men to get a cup of water, while he leaned against the rail.

Lucas had taken him to a shed on the Potter property, about a hundred feet from the house. Clark could see two men working on a burial pit. A body wrapped in a sheet lay beside it. Lana, he thought. 

Perry followed his gaze.

“Found that poor little lady in the house,” he said. “Figured we’d give her a decent burial.”

“Miss Lana,” Clark told him. “She owned the house. She’s … she was … Lex’s mistress.” He frowned as he looked around. “Where’s Bruce? And Lex?”

“That’s what I want to know, Kid. What’s Luthor planning?”

“He’s going to rob the Wells Fargo tonight. They’re coming through Metropolis late tonight.”

“Any idea where they’s planning on hitting the train?”

Clark shook his head. “Can’t read. Bruce would know the way.”

“Luthor trying to make you and Bruce rob it?”

“Yessir. He had some friends of ours kidnapped so we would do what he wanted.”

“Miss Lois, Miss Chloe, on the Sullivan ranch.”

Clark nodded miserably. “They’re safe. Lois’ sister.”

Perry nodded. “Good. They need to stay as far away from this as possible.”

“Mr Sullivan …”

Perry waved his hand. “Already know about it, Kid. Fordman there confessed he murdered the old man. He’ll get the gallows for that.”

“I don’t …”

“Governor figured one of my men was working for Luthor, but we didn’t know who. We couldn’t do nothing about him finding out about the amnesty, Kid. Tried my best to convince Dunleavy the amnesty weren’t real but he didn’t buy it.”

“Why?”

“Governor Gordon knew you were a good kid, just got caught up with some bad people. Wanted me to keep you out of trouble.”

Clark’s mind was reeling. Marshal White was only pretending to chase them? Sure, that was great and everything, but it didn’t solve the immediate problem. Bruce must still think Clark was Lex’s prisoner, forced to go along with the robbery. If he did, Clark had no doubt Lex would force him to kill innocent people. 

“We gotta stop them.”

“Well, sure we do, Kid, but how’re you gonna do that if you can’t read?”

That was true. When Lex and Bruce had begun planning the robbery the day before, they had consulted a map of some kind. Clark hadn’t paid any attention, instead playing cards with Oliver, who at that time hadn’t been in on the robbery. Lex had figured since Clark couldn’t read, a map wouldn’t be much use to him.

“There must be someone who knows where they’re gonna come in,” Clark said. 

“My boys don’t, but I bet one of them boys do,” Perry said, nodding toward the shed. Clark smiled grimly, watching as Perry straightened up, then strode off the porch and over toward the shed.

Jimmy came out seconds later, going to the well to get himself a drink.

“How you doing?” he asked.

Clark shrugged. “Better.”

“Marshal was dead scared you were a goner, Kid. Thought for a minute you were.”

Yeah, so did I, Clark thought.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Governor got your telegram, told the boss to hotfoot it to the Potter place. Saw Lucas outside the shed and we knew something was up. Lucas was sure surprised to see us though, tell you that.”

“Guess Lex didn’t know about the telegram,” Clark replied, relieved. 

“That’s a good thing.”

There were shouts coming from the shed and bangs and crashes. Clark immediately got up, thinking someone was about to get killed in there, but Jimmy stopped him. 

“Boss knows what he’s doing.”

Clark didn’t doubt it, but he still worried. Whitney certainly wasn’t about to give up any information, especially now that he knew he would be getting the gallows for killing Gabe Sullivan. Poor Chloe, Clark thought. At least she had her cousins, but she’d already lost so much. Her mother had run away when Chloe had been little and Gabe had been left to raise her by himself.

There was silence from the shed and Perry came out a few moments later, rubbing his hand with a kerchief. He spoke with one of his men, clearly telling him to guard the shed, then returned to the porch.

“Olsen, get the rest of the men and find me a map.”

“Yessir boss.”

Clark didn’t wait for orders, following the man inside the house. He sat at the long table, taking his gun from his holster and laying it on the table to clean it. 

“You boys are sure in some deep trouble, Kid. Lefty’s had it in for you from day one.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Lionel. He was planning on training you up as his number one, only Luthor got to him first.”

“Why?” Clark frowned at the older man, wondering what exactly Lionel had planned for him.

“Cause you’re special, kid. You’d have made one hell of a bank robber if he coulda just got past that honest streak of yours. Why do you think the governor chose you two? He knew you’d do the right thing.”

Clark guessed Perry was ignoring the few robberies he and Bruce had already done. The marshal, it seemed, knew an awful lot about the gang’s activities, making Clark wonder if the marshal had had someone in the gang spying for him. Which was fair enough, he thought, since Lex had sent one of his own people to spy on the marshal.

Still, the marshal had a point. Clark might have done those robberies, but he’d always done it reluctantly, knowing Lex would take it out on one of the men if he didn’t go along with it. Even when someone had pulled a gun on him, Clark had just used his abilities so no one got hurt. It had made him glad he’d had Bruce with him. Anyone else would have killed someone.

“It ain’t no streak.”

“Yeah, it is. Your ma and pa done raised you right, Kid.”

“Don’t talk about my mother and father,” Clark said feeling that same twinge of guilt and hurt he always felt when someone brought up Martha and Jonathan Kent.

Perry shook his head and smiled kindly at him. 

“I know what you think, Kid, but I ain’t trying to rile you up. Thing is, I can’t prove none of it, but I’m damn sure Lionel was the one who done set that fire that killed them.”

Clark stared at him. “What?”

“Lionel knew just how special you are, Kid. He wanted you to join his gang, but your folks wouldn’t allow it.”

“Lex said Lionel knew my Pa from the war.”

Perry shrugged. “I don’t know nothing about that, but I sure’s hell know what I heard. Lionel wanted you for hisself and he weren’t about to let your Pa tell him what to do.”

Clark felt a surge of hatred for the man who had raised him after his ma and pa had died. If Lionel wasn’t already dead, he would have killed him himself.

“I know what you’re thinkin’ Kid, and you’d be justified, I reckon. Pity Lefty got there first.”

“Bruce said he shot Lionel in the back.”

“Sounds like your boss.”

“He ain’t my boss.”

“No, he ain’t. You’re a good kid, Kent,” Perry said, leaning forward and clapping a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid.”

“I ain’t no kid, neither.”

Perry just grinned. The men came in, led by Jimmy. One of them had what appeared to be a map.

“All right,” Perry said as the map was spread on the table. “Fordman tells us they’re gonna stop the train here, about ten or so miles from the city.”

“Boss, that’s nearly half a day’s ride,” Jimmy pointed out. “It’s already past noon. We ain’t never gonna get there in time.”

Clark bit his lip. Jimmy was right. Lex had ordered Bruce to hit the train around dusk, before the train reached the junction just outside of the city. 

He could stop them, but if Lex was with them, he might have more of that rock. Given the way he’d almost died from a rock the size of his hand, even something smaller would be enough to stop him in his tracks.

He had to try though. He couldn’t let Bruce go through with it. He couldn’t lose him. 

“I could go,” he said.

“You faster than a horse, Kid?” Perry looked at him steadily. “Yeah, I’m betting you are. Still, you sure? If Lefty’s got more of that rock …”

Clark nodded. It was a chance he had to take, he thought. Even if Bruce refused to kill, Lex would make it look like Bruce had done it anyway. He had to save his friend. Both of his friends. Lex had to pay for what he’d done. To Chloe and Lois. To Lana. To Lionel.

“All right, Kid. We’ll follow you on the horses. You do whatever you gotta do to stop Luthor and save your friends.”

“Oliver too?” he asked.

Perry nodded. “Hell, Ollie’s a good kid too,” he smiled. “I ain’t never seen him shoot at no one who didn’t deserve it.”

Clark smiled at the older man, glad to know he had someone who was on his side.

“Go get ‘em Kid.”

“Give ‘em hell, Kid,” Jimmy echoed, grinning. Clark grinned back. Jimmy was a good guy too. Given different circumstances, they probably would have been friends.

With a nod, Clark left the Potter house, waiting until he was out of sight before he took off at super speed. He knew enough of the area to know where Lex had been planning the ambush. All he needed to do was find a safe place to wait it out until the gang got there.

***

Bruce had spent the last two hours on horseback trying to think of a way to get away from Lex and get back to the house. The way Clark had been looking when Lucas had hauled him away had him worried. Clark had been sick – very sick. 

It was typical of Lex, he thought. Control the situation with threats and intimidation, and if that didn’t work, commit murder. He was sure more than ever now that Lex had murdered Lana. It hadn’t been just the fact that she had been going to have a child. His child. It was that someone else had tried to get her away from him.

Lex had always been possessive of whatever he owned. Bruce remembered a few times when Clark had just joined the gang. Lex had caught him nosing in his things and threatened Clark with a beating if he ever caught him again. A beating would never have hurt Clark, unless of course, Lex had been intending to use that green rock.

Bruce frowned, wondering where the rock had come from and why it only made Clark sick. Lex had held that thing in his hands and didn’t seem at all affected by it. The only explanation to it was that it had something to do with Clark’s abilities. 

Lex moved his horse up beside him.

“I hope you’re not thinking of trying to get out of this, Bruce. I’d hate to think what state your boy is in right now.”

Bruce glowered at him. “Leave Clark out of this. He’s just a kid.”

“A kid with extraordinary gifts, wouldn’t you say? Imagine what he could do with those abilities, on the right side. Pity Lionel could never beat that streak out of him.”

“Why are you doing this, Lex?”

“Why? Because I can. Lionel was never ambitious enough. All he ever saw was the money. Power is where it’s at, Bruce.”

“And Clark could have helped you get it, that it? He won’t be much help to you if he’s dead.”

Lex shrugged dismissively. “There are always sacrifices one has to make on the road to power. Clark could have stopped me from achieving that goal.”

“So if we’re not with you, we’re against you? My god, Lex, you murdered your own father, you murdered Lana, and now Clark. Where does it end?”

Lex smirked. “Well, I’m sure if you had your way, it would be at the end of a rope. But if I’m going to go down I’m going to take you with me.” He nudged his horse with his foot and rode on ahead to talk to one of the other members of their gang. Lex had obviously told the rest of the gang to meet them on the way to robbing the Wells Fargo train. Winslow Schott was considered an expert in anything to do with explosives. Edward Nygma liked to tell jokes but he was also a brilliant strategist with a mind a close match to Lex’s.

Bruce quietly fumed. He couldn’t try to ambush Lex, not with the other two ahead of him. He was damned sure Lex wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him in the back, but he couldn’t do that. No matter what Lex was forcing him to do tonight, he worked for the Governor now. Besides that, Lex had taken away their guns. They were defenceless, at least until the time came to rob the train.

“I could kill him,” Oliver said quietly. Bruce glanced over and Oliver showed him a knife. He always kept one in his boot.

When Oliver was a kid, he’d picked up a bow and arrow and had started learning to shoot. He’d then graduated to throwing knives. He had excellent aim and almost never missed a target. He could very well stab Lex in the back without having to get off his horse.

“Don’t. We’ll figure something out.”

“You know Clark’s gonna die if we don’t do something,” his friend reminded him.

“That won’t change the situation.”

“I think you’re afraid,” Oliver said, taunting him a little.

“No, I’m not. I just think there’s a better way to deal with this.”

“You’re afraid. You’re the governor’s man now and you know you’ll lose your amnesty if you go through with robbing that train tonight. You’ll get the gallows instead.”

Oliver was right. Innocent people were most likely going to die tonight and Lex would make sure Bruce would get the blame. Still, if Clark was dead, he’d rather face the gallows than a life without the one person who cared about him. Oliver was his friend, but the blond would never take a bullet for him. 

“You think I should just take the risk anyway?” Bruce asked.

“We’re dead no matter what we do. If it’s not at the gallows it’ll be by a bullet from Lex’s gun. He’s never going to let us walk away from this.”

Another very good point, Bruce sighed. The best he could hope for was to wait until closer to the time and try to take Lex out. Even if he did get the gallows, he could at least make sure Lex could never hurt anyone again.

The sun was lower in the sky by the time they reached the junction. The plan was to plant dynamite along the rail line, forcing the train to stop. Once it was stopped, they were to get everyone off the train and transfer the cash into saddlebags.

Lex had told him to leave no witnesses and Bruce knew he had very little choice, unless he could figure out a way to get them out of the way. 

Oliver coughed beside him and he looked around at his friend. 

“What is it?” he asked, glancing uneasily at Lex, who was a few yards ahead of them. Lex didn’t seem to hear them.

“Get the feeling we’re being watched?” Oliver asked, looking up above them.

Bruce frowned at him. For the past couple miles he’d been feeling like someone was following them, but thought he had been imagining it. He could have sworn he’d heard a sound, like something scraping on rock, but it could have just been a boulder falling down from the cliff above them as they’d gone through the pass. Now that Oliver had called his attention to it, he looked up, shielding his eyes at the harsh light of the waning sun trying to see if anything was there. 

He felt something like pin pricks on his skin and his horse shifted uncomfortably. There was definitely something in the air, Bruce thought. 

Lex held up his hand, frowning, then looked around at them, pulling his horse to a halt. He turned and rode up to them.

“A problem, gentlemen?” he asked. 

Bruce just stared at him evenly. He wasn’t about to give Lex the satisfaction. 

“Answer me,” Lex growled.

“Nothing boss,” Oliver said.

“Hmm,” was all the bald man said. 

There was the sound of rocks being disturbed above them. Lex looked up, pulling his gun from his holster.

“Probably an animal,” Bruce said. “Cats probably come down from the mountains looking for food.”

Lex seemed to buy that explanation as he turned his horse once again and caught up with the others. Bruce glanced at Oliver and shrugged, nudging his horse with his boot. It snorted in protest, refusing to move. Bruce’s frown deepened. The horse didn’t seem frightened as such, but something had disturbed it. 

The only other time the horses seemed disturbed was when Clark … Bruce gasped and looked up again, his eyes darting from side to side, looking desperately for any sign that his friend was nearby. It couldn’t be a coincidence, he thought. It always happened when Clark moved at super speed. The horses seemed to be able to see him differently.

He glanced at Oliver, who frowned back at him, mouthing the words silently.

“What’s going on?”

Bruce shrugged. “Not sure,” he mouthed back. 

Suddenly one of the horses in front whinnied and reared up, dislodging its rider. Lex and Schott looked around, startled, as Nygma fell on his back, appearing stunned.

Lex began looking around, his gun in his left hand.

“I know you’re here, Kid. I don’t know how you managed to get away but no matter. You think I didn’t plan for every contingency?”

Bruce caught a glint of steel and saw Oliver fingering his knife. Bruce shook his head at his friend.

He squinted, catching a blur of movement as Schott’s horse began playing up, quietly celebrating as Schott’s bucked him off. Lex tightened his grip on his gun, looking around. Bruce wondered what contingency plan Lex had had, but he wasn’t about to wait around to find out. 

Beckoning to Oliver, he dug his heels in, forcing his horse to gallop toward Lex, who turned to glare at him. Bruce saw him raise his gun toward him but a blur came out of nowhere and knocked Lex off his horse. Clark tackled Lex to the ground and the two men began wrestling with each other. 

Either Clark was still a little weak from the rock, or Bruce had been right to assume Lex had more rock as the older man seemed to manage to get in a few good blows. Bruce jumped off his horse and darted forward as the two men grappled for the gun which Lex seemed to be hanging onto as if it was priceless. 

Schott and Nygma seemed to be recovering. With a yell, Oliver tackled Schott while Nygma intercepted Bruce. Nygma was skinny and not as skilled in hand-to-hand fighting as Bruce, but he still knew enough to slow Bruce down. He’d just managed to knock the man out with a decent blow to his head when he heard the crack of a gunshot.

Clark cried out in pain and Lex laughed. Bruce turned and glared at him. Lex was standing over Clark, the gun in his hand. There was a bullet in Clark’s side which seemed to have a green glow to it. Lex was laughing. 

“Take me for an imbecile, Kid?”

Clark was squirming on the ground, clearly in a lot of pain, his hand on the wound. Blood was everywhere. Lex raised the gun.

“Remember what we do to lame horses, Clark?”

“Nooo!” Bruce yelled, running toward the bald man. Oliver got there first, tackling Lex to the ground. His blows were vicious as he beat Lex into unconsciousness. Oliver was still beating the man when Bruce grabbed his wrist. 

“Oliver. Enough.”

He let his friend go then turned to kneel by Clark.

“Clark?”

“Bullet?” Clark croaked. “Bruce, please …” Tears were coursing down his cheeks. 

The wound didn’t look too deep and Bruce decided the only way to save Clark was to get the bullet out. 

“Ollie. I need your knife.”

Oliver handed it over without hesitation. Clark looked up at him, his green eyes glazed in pain.

“This will hurt,” Bruce told him. “Hurt worse than that bullet.”

Clark shook his head. “Don’t care, just get it out.”

Biting his lip, Bruce worked, digging the knife into Clark’s skin. He winced as his friend screamed. Oliver clutched Clark’s bloody hand. Bruce grit his teeth as he continued to dig around for the bullet. His friend screamed once more, before passing out.

“God, look at him!” Oliver cried.

Bruce nodded. The veins around the wound were turning green and bulging as if Clark’s blood was boiling.

“It’s poisoning him,” the blond told him.

“I know.” He used his thumb and forefinger to try and grab the bullet, while he continued trying to lever it out with the point of the knife. Oliver was yelling Clark’s name, trying to get him to wake up.

“He’s not breathing!” Oliver cried out.

The bullet finally came free and Bruce tossed it as far away as he could, watching as the wound slowly, miraculously closed before their eyes. Clark’s body shuddered and he began breathing again, but was still unconscious.

“Stay with him,” Oliver murmured. “I’m gonna go find something to take care of Lex and the others.”

Bruce held his lover’s head on his lap, stroking his face and running his hand over Clark’s head. Blood stained Clark’s shirt and Bruce’s hands but he didn’t care. All he wanted was for Clark to wake up.

Oliver helped him drag Clark to shelter and they left him to rest while they secured Lex and the others. Lex regained consciousness not long after Bruce had managed to get the bullet out and watched them with a smirk on his face. He had broken at least two teeth in the fight with Oliver and had a large bruise under his eye, but he still looked at them with a smug self-satisfied expression.

Oliver sat by the fire he’d lit, glaring at the three men who were tied up together, while Bruce continued to watch over his friend.

“Anything?” Oliver murmured, his voice low.

Bruce shook his head. Clark was still out.

There was a scraping sound and Bruce looked up, grabbing his gun, which he’d retrieved from Lex’s saddlebag.

“Well, look at this,” a gruff voice said. 

Marshal White!


	11. Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark has a vision but isn't sure what it means. Bruce and Clark return to Metropolis to talk to Governor Gordon and Bruce is stunned to see who else is there.

Clark heard the panicked voice of his lover but it was as if the voice was far away. He felt warm and safe and was reluctant to emerge from that warm place.

“Kal-El, my son,” a woman’s voice said softly, her tone almost lyrical. Clark frowned. The voice sounded so familiar, yet he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before.

“Kal-El,” she said again. He didn’t know who this Kal-El was, but it didn’t seem relevant. “Kal-El, you need to wake up. Your companion needs you.”

“Who are you?” he said, his own voice sounding in his head rather than outside in the real world. He looked at the form of the woman. She was beautiful, with long golden hair, wearing a long white dress that made her seem almost ethereal. 

“I am Lara,” she said. “Your mother.”

“My mother?”

“We sent you to Earth as a baby. That is why you have your strange abilities my son. You must wake up.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to sink down into the warmth where he could never be hurt again. 

Still, she’d said Bruce needed him. With reluctance, he concentrated on the voices pulling him back to the surface. 

“Don’t do it, son. You ain’t killed nobody yet.”

“Bruce,” Clark said faintly. He struggled to sit up, blinking at his lover. Bruce was holding his gun on the marshal. “Bruce, it’s all right.”

Bruce turned to him, his eyes widening as he saw Clark was awake.

“Clark?”

He dropped his gun in his haste to wrap his arms around Clark, more intent on the ‘miracle’ he’d witnessed than the lawman standing before him. Clark felt Bruce’s hands checking him, making sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“I’m all right,” Clark told him. He glanced up at the marshal, who nodded.

“That’s the second time today, Kid,” the older man told him.

Bruce looked at Clark, then at the marshal, clearly confused. 

“The marshal saved me,” Clark told him in a low voice. The marshal’s men were busy rounding up the three outlaws. Lex had a large bruise under his eye and what appeared to be a few more at the back of his head. He shot Clark an angry look, clearly not happy that Clark was alive. 

Bruce nodded. He watched as Lex was being led away by one of the men. There was a sudden movement as Lex made a grab for the man’s gun in his holster and turned. Clark moved at speed, grabbing the gun before Lex could do anything. 

Perry shook his head and shot Lex a look of fury. 

“You’re already getting’ the hangman’s knot, Lefty. Shooting a lawman’ll only make it that much quicker.”

“That’s depending on if I even make it to Metropolis,” Lex returned. 

“Don’t be thinking of escaping,” the marshal warned. “Especially ‘cause I’ll just send the kid after yer.” He winked at Clark before turning back to Lex. “I’m sure he’ll be wantin’ another crack at yer.”

Clark smiled, then shot Lex a look. The other man returned it with a vicious look before he was dragged away by Jimmy and another deputy. Clark had no doubt Lex would make an attempt to escape. If he succeeded, Clark would go after him. He wasn’t about to let Lex get away a second time.

Perry was talking to Bruce.

“The governor’ll be wantin’ to see you boys. He’ll be at the Metropolis Hotel tomorrow. You boys can make your own way, I’m sure.” He then turned to Oliver. “Now you, boy, you stay out of trouble, you hear me?”

“Yes sir.”

Clark watched at the man followed his deputies out and got on his horse, clutching Bruce’s hand behind their backs. Perry smiled down at them. 

“Sure glad you boys are on my side,” he said. “We could use more like you.”

“Yes sir,” Bruce said. 

As soon as the men were out of sight, Bruce turned to him and wrapped him in a bear hug.

“Thought you were a goner, Kid,” he said. Clark could see how much it had scared his lover.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Bruce,” he replied. 

Oliver coughed, looking a little uncomfortable at the way Bruce and Clark were looking at each other. 

“Uh, how about I go round us up something to eat while you two, uh, catch up.”

Clark heard the words but they didn’t register. He was too busy looking at his lover. 

“Clark, I …”

Clark shushed him, for the first time in their relationship feeling like he was the more grown-up one. Then again, he had almost died. 

Bruce kissed him, wrapping his arms around him. Clark grinned at his lover, who, even when he was vulnerable, still liked to take charge. They sank down on the dirt next to the fire, still kissing. 

Aware that Oliver might come back at any moment, even in the knowledge that he was giving them time alone to reconnect, they couldn’t take the time for foreplay, so they rubbed up against each other, still fully clothed. Clark could feel his lover’s hard cock beneath the rough material of his trousers. 

He slipped his hand between the fastenings, grasping his lover’s shaft until Bruce cried out and ground against him. Clark jacked him roughly, loving the way Bruce gasped. His lover’s hand tore at his own trousers, uncaring if he ripped the fastenings. 

“Clark,” Bruce muttered against his mouth. 

“I know,” Clark replied. “It’s all right.”

“Fuck!” Bruce was having difficulty with the trousers. Clark pushed them down, giving his lover room. He felt the blunt head of his friend’s cock nudge him then push inside. He pushed back, eager for his friend’s touch.

“Come on, Bruce,” he coaxed. “Come in me.”

The friction of their bodies was almost agony. Bruce grunted, thrusting hard and deep. In some way, the almost dying had heightened things somehow, made them both aware of how close they had come to losing each other, the need for the other that much stronger. 

Bruce cried out and Clark felt the heat of his friend’s release inside him. His lover reached for Clark’s own cock, his strokes hard and urgent in their intensity. Clark came, crying his lover’s name, his shirt, already sticky with blood, now also sticky with his release. 

Bruce nipped his shoulder and Clark grinned up at him.

“Don’t do that, or you’ll break your teeth.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you Kid?”

Clark chuckled and kissed him. “Never.” He rolled over as Bruce pulled out, then got to his feet, fixing up his trousers, looking down at his ruined shirt. Bruce frowned as he got up, staring at the shirt, clearly reminded of just how close it had been. Clark took his friend’s hand. 

“Hey, I’m all right,” he assured him, for about the third time. 

Bruce nodded, still not all that happy. He went to the horses, which Oliver must have tied up, and dug in one of the saddlebags. He pulled out his spare shirt. They tended to wear the same shirt until they became crusted with dirt but always had one to spare. Clark was slightly bigger in the chest than Bruce, but it would do until he could get a new shirt, since everything else he had was back at the Potter place. 

They sat together by the fire. Bruce stared into the flames for a few minutes, not saying anything. Clark watched as it grew darker outside the shelter, which was little more than an outcropping of the cliff above. It would at least be enough for the night.

“What happened, back at the Potter place?” Bruce asked finally.

“They had me in the shed, out back. The rock … it made me sick. Really sick. Thought I was dying. Maybe I was, I dunno. Next thing I know I’m being shaken awake and it’s the marshal’s deputy, Jimmy.”

“Why did they save you? I don’t get it.”

“They knew Lucas was working for Lex. Or suspected anyway. Lucas knew about the amnesty and Marshal White was tryin’ to put him off the scent by pretending he didn’t care and was still gonna come after us. When he was tryin’ to help us.”

Bruce looked dubious, but Clark didn’t know how to explain it. Maybe a lot of it didn’t make sense, but he had the feeling Governor Gordon had asked the marshal to help where he could without making it look like he was helping, so much of it was for show. 

Oliver returned with a couple of rabbits he figured he could cook up on the fire. The meat would probably be tough, as they seemed to be old, but it was the best he could do.   
As the meat cooked he began talking about what he was going to do. 

“I’m gonna go straight,” he said. “Heck, I never wanted to be an outlaw anyway. I like playing the tables, and the ladies,” he added, as if to confirm that he was strictly into the women, unlike Clark and Bruce. 

Clark nodded. “What will you do?”

Oliver shrugged. “Maybe find some work somewhere,” he said. “Honest work.”

“Maybe you could sign on as a hand at the Sullivan ranch,” Bruce suggested quietly. “With Chloe’s father gone, they could probably use the extra help.”

“What about you two?”

“We got Lex, but we gotta go find Morgan and Carmine,” Clark said. “The governor will want them locked up.”

“Why them?” Oliver asked. 

“Because Carmine might know something about my mother and father,” Bruce explained patiently. “And Morgan, because we think he knows more about Lionel.”

“But we haven’t heard anything from them for a while,” Oliver pointed out. “What if they’re dead? I mean, like I told you before, they had this bigshot marshal after them.”

“Yeah, Earp,” Clark said. “Still, we got a job to do.”

Bruce nodded. “When we talk to the governor tomorrow, we’ll figure out our next plan. Meantime we should eat then get some shuteye.”

Clark agreed. 

They ate their dinner then settled down for the night by the fire. Clark wrapped his arms around his lover, keeping him warm as the temperature dropped. He still couldn’t help thinking about what he’d seen when he was out.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked quietly.

“Nothin’.”

“Don’t give me that,” his friend said. “I know when something’s not right.”

“It’s just … when I was out, I saw something. Or someone.”

Bruce rolled over and looked at him, the light from the fire flickering on his face. 

“Who?”

“She said she was my mother.”

“Martha?”

Clark shook his head. “No. She had golden hair. Ma had red hair.”

“Oh.”

“She said something about ‘sending me to Earth’. What could that mean, Bruce?”

“I don’t know, Clark, but maybe we’ll find out one day. Let’s get some sleep,” he said, moving in closer. 

Clark sighed softly and closed his eyes, letting himself relax. One day, he thought. 

***

Bruce spent half the night awake, worrying about his lover. Knowing how close Clark had come to dying, he wondered if the vision Clark had had might have something to do with that. He’d heard stories of people who had thought they were dying and had similar visions of someone supposedly long dead. 

He knew he had to find the answers. Somehow. 

When first light came, despite his lack of sleep, he was the first one up. He found some more wood for the fire and built up the flames again. It was chilly, as it tended to be out on the plains, and he shivered, rubbing his arms to try to get warm as the flames licked at the wood. All he’d managed to find had been dampened by the early morning dew.

Winter was coming early, he thought. 

Clark and Oliver rose shortly after and Bruce had managed to dig up some grits from the saddlebag, cooking them over the fire. Lex had clearly not been planning to return to Metropolis as he had packed up most of his own gear. Bruce guessed Lex had planned on holing up somewhere once he had what he wanted from the Wells Fargo shipment and riding out the notoriety he would have got from the robbery. 

Oliver got on his horse shortly after breakfast. Bruce had told him where to find Lois and Chloe. He was sure that the girls would be all right once Oliver had joined them. As much as his friend liked playing the tables, he couldn’t do it forever, and a job as a ranch hand would let him settle down. 

They got on their own horses once they had packed up. Clark took one of the horses left behind when the marshal’s men had taken Lex and the others away. The horse was a magnificent beast, at least sixteen hands, with ebony black hide. It didn’t have the best disposition, but Clark soon had it under control. 

They rode side by side. Bruce occasionally glanced at his lover, making sure he was still all right after yesterday’s ordeal. Clark finally huffed in exasperation.

“Stop that,” he admonished. “You worry too much.”

“Do you expect me not to worry about you?” Bruce returned.

“No. I still wish you would stop though. I’m all right.”

Bruce nodded and tried to concentrate on the ride. Clark clearly thought he needed a distraction.

“What’s gonna happen to us now that Lex is in jail?”

“There’s more than just Lex out there. I figure the governor wanted us to help him round up all the gangs, not just ours.”

“I guess so.” He rode in silence for a few moments, then looked back at Bruce. “You know Lex will try to escape.”

Bruce understood. Lex was the type of man who would hate being cooped up. He didn’t know how long it would be before Lex would be judged and executed for his crimes, but he was fairly certain it would be long enough for the other man to attempt an escape. 

It was not a matter of if, but when, and when he did, Bruce would be there to make sure Lex wouldn’t get very far.

By the time they returned to town, the sun was high in the sky and he was sweating. They hitched their horses to the post outside the Metropolis Hotel and took handfuls of water from the drinking trough, splashing their necks with it to cool down. 

There was a marshal standing outside, clearly having spotted them.

“Afternoon boys,” he said.

Bruce tipped his hat.

“Marshal.”

“Governor’s expecting you,” the man said.

They didn’t reply, following the marshal into the hotel. Governor Gordon sat on one of the chairs in the main room of the hotel, smoking a pipe.

“Thank you, Will,” he said. “Boys, why don’t you sit down?”

Bruce took off his hat and Clark followed suit. The governor smiled at them.

“Perhaps a drink to wet your whistle?” he suggested. “Name your poison.”

“Whiskey for me, sir,” Bruce said. “Sarsaparilla for Clark.”

“Indeed.” He looked over toward the barkeep, who nodded and poured the drinks. The governor turned back to them. “I hear you had a busy day yesterday. As we speak, Alexander ‘Lefty’ Luthor is in Metropolis jail.”

“Where he belongs,” Clark said darkly.

The older man raised an eyebrow at him. Bruce wasn’t surprised at the man’s reaction. Clark had changed his tune completely from defending Lex to hating him. Then again, after everything that had happened in the past few days, Bruce couldn’t blame him.

“Yes, I understand,” Gordon replied. “I see you are none the worse for your ordeal.”

Clark nodded. “I’m all right, sir.”

Jim Gordon beamed.

“This is why I chose you. You and your partner. Even when you were robbing people you were unfailingly polite and saw to it no one was ever hurt. People took notice, my young friend. Now, tell me, what is your next move?”

“We need to find Carmine Falcone and Morgan Edge,” Bruce told him. “They may know what happened to my family.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. At least, not with Carmine Falcone,” a gruff voice said. 

Bruce turned to look at the newcomer. The man had slicked back hair and a bushy moustache which hid much of his mouth. He wore what was clearly a marshal’s badge on his lapel.

“Why Falcone, Mister …”

“Earp. Wyatt Earp. Carmine Falcone was killed in a shoot-out with my men three days ago. Morgan Edge fled. He may have returned to your old gang hideout in the mountains.”

“Damn,” Bruce replied. “I mean, darn it.”

Gordon chuckled. “Never mind, son. There’s much worse than ‘damn’. My wife, lord love her, frequently threatens me with washing my mouth out.”

“There’s someone you may want to talk to,” Earp continued. “His name’s Moroni. He runs with another gang.”

Bruce frowned. He vaguely knew of Moroni, as they were a rival gang. He’d thought the old man had died years ago, however.

“He’s still alive,” Earp assured him. “Mostly retired. Moroni was smart enough to let the young’uns take over without completely handing over the operation. My men believe he has a hideout up near Dodge.”

Bruce frowned. Dodge City was a ten-day ride on horseback. Clark, of course, could get there the fastest, and probably in less than an hour, but he knew his friend wouldn’t want to leave him behind. Not if there were answers waiting for him. 

Still, he wanted to solve the mystery of Clark’s origins as much as he wanted to solve the mystery of his own past. 

“Isn’t Dodge your territory Mr Earp?” Clark asked.

The older man smiled at him. They’d heard enough stories about Wyatt Earp to know the man had a lot of arrests under his belt. He had a reputation for being a tough lawman and any man with even a modicum of intelligence would know not to go up against him. Then again, no one could ever mistake some of the outlaws they came across as intelligent. Their own gang notwithstanding. Lionel had believed in collecting only the ‘special’ ones – those with more than just average intelligence or abilities. 

“I think I can let you have Moroni,” Earp chuckled. “Your need is greater than mine. Besides, I believe you may have a better chance than most at getting to him, considering your reputations.”

Bruce nodded. He was sure Earp meant they could infiltrate the gang easier than the marshal and his men. 

Perry White came in sitting with them as they talked with the governor, enjoying their drinks. The older marshal nodded at Earp before ordering himself a sarsaparilla. 

“No whiskey Perry?” Earp asked.

“Kinda lost my taste for it. How you boys doin?” he said, nodding to Bruce and Clark.

“We’re good, sir,” Clark said. 

“Your friend Lefty is swearing up a storm over at the jail, let me tell ya. He’s got it in for you boys.”

Bruce nodded. “I have no doubt of that, sir. I also have no doubt that Lex will try to escape custody. If he does, we’ll be ready for him.”

“I warn you to be careful though. Alexander strikes me as the kind of man who won’t let matters lie. He’ll be out for blood.”

“Let him come,” Clark said darkly. “I’m not afraid of him.”

Bruce glanced at Clark, taking note of the determined look on his face. He realised his friend wasn’t being cocky, having cheated death twice in one day. 

“We still have to find Morgan first,” he reminded his friend quietly. “And Moroni. With Carmine gone, it might be my only chance to find out the truth about my family.”

“Not your only chance,” the governor said quietly, a little smile playing on his lips. 

Bruce frowned at him. The older man nodded toward the doorway leading to the rooms upstairs. 

“Master Bruce?”

He rose from his chair, turning toward the entryway, his heart pounding. An older man stood in the doorway, his posture still stiff. Bruce felt himself beginning to tremble.

“Alfred?” he said softly.

“Bruce, it really is you.”

“Alfred?” He was aware his voice sounded almost like that of a child’s but here in front of him was the man who had been everything to him when he was a child. 

So many memories came rushing back. Of the time he had broken his leg in a fall. Of Alfred, so strong, so comforting as he carried the injured Bruce up to the house where his father could take care of him. 

“I thought I lost you boy,” Alfred said, sounding almost tearful. 

Bruce bit back his own tears. He was a grown man of twenty-four now, not a child. It had been fourteen years. Where had Alfred been all that time? Why had the man abandoned him, left him to Lionel?

“No,” he said.

Clark got to his feet, stopping Bruce before he could run out.

“Don’t,” his friend said softly. Clark knew what it was like to be alone. To lose everything. He didn’t know what it was like to be abandoned by the one person he thought would always be there for him.

Bruce tried to pull away, but Clark was firm, his gaze travelling from one man to the other. 

“Bruce, I’ve been looking for you these long years, hoping you were still alive.”

“You left me,” Bruce said bitterly.

“No, Master Bruce. I never left you.” Alfred looked grieved, tired and worn. He moved to one of the chairs, offering the governor a gentle smile before he sat down. Clark made Bruce return to his own chair.

“When your mother and father, God rest their souls, were killed, I took you back to your family home, intending to raise you as my ward. You had no other family. But a few days after their deaths you were taken.”

Bruce shook his head. That wasn’t how he remembered it. He had been left abandoned on the streets to fend for himself until he’d tried to pick Lionel’s pocket. That was what he’d been … told. His eyes widened as he looked at the older man. He could see from the man’s expression that what he was saying was the truth. 

“Who took me?” he said.

Gordon spoke up. “Hard to say. It may have been Carmine.”

Bruce looked at Clark, who nodded. “Lionel could have ordered it,” he said. “Like my folks.”

Gordon looked at Clark. “You know this to be the truth, son?”

Marshal White nodded. “My people tell me it was more than likely Lionel set the fire that killed Martha and Jonathan Kent. Lionel wanted the boy for himself. Some say he tried to buy the boy and when his Ma and Pa refused …” He shrugged. “Still, ain’t no way of provin’ it unless Lefty talks, and there ain’t much hope of that.”

Bruce nodded. He figured the truth might just be at their mountain hideout. Lionel would have kept some kind of record, perhaps as insurance in case any of the gang tried to turn against him. He probably never thought his own son would do it. 

“Alfred, when did you …”

“When you disappeared, I went to Governor Gordon. Of course, he wasn’t the governor then. He promised to help me find you.”

“Three years ago I heard about a young man with the name of that missing boy running with the Luthor gang and I knew it had to be you. My people had been watching the Luthor gang for years, only they had no idea he had had you taken. Your notoriety had begun to spread throughout the mid-west, but it took that long to reach Gotham. I made some enquiries and I learned that the young robber known as ‘Dark Knight’ Wayne was tough but had never shot anyone. Nor had his younger companion. Despite his gang’s reputation. So I informed Alfred and together we began to devise a plan to capture you. It was just our bad luck that you were often too smart for your own good. You and young Clark here.”

Bruce grinned. There had been a few attempts to capture them – the ambush at the mountain hideout was probably one of them. He guessed this final time the governor had decided setting a trap was the only way. 

“You boys sure led me on a few good chases,” Perry complained good-naturedly. “I’m an old man. I’m getting’ too tired for this.” He laughed to show he wasn’t serious.

The governor re-lit his pipe and puffed on it for a few moments.

“Now, of course there is the reward for Lex’s capture.”

“We don’t need the reward ourselves, sir,” Clark said quietly. “But if you don’t mind, we’d like it to go to our friends.”

“The young ladies from the Sullivan ranch?” Perry said.

Bruce nodded his agreement. “Yes sir. The money would sure come in handy for them.”

“A wonderful idea, and very generous,” Gordon beamed. “I will see to it. What of your friend Oliver?”

“He wants to go straight,” Bruce told him. “We sent him to look after the girls.”

Perry nodded. “Oliver’s a good man.”

“Then I shall have papers drawn up granting him amnesty. If he can keep out of trouble for one year then I see no reason why he can’t receive a pardon same as you boys.”

Clark grinned. 

Gordon looked at them. 

“I’m proud of you boys. You took the challenge I gave you and more than met it.”

“Thank you sir,” Bruce said.

“I expect you boys are tired and will want to continue your journey in the morning. Have yourselves a good meal and a good night’s rest.”

“We will.”


	12. Twister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark set off for the mountain camp but a tornado forces them to seek shelter. Bruce makes a discovery.

They retired upstairs after a good meal. Clark was more than eager for the rest, knowing they would be continuing their journey in the morning. He hoped for Bruce’s sake that some of the answers they were seeking would be in the mountain hideout. 

Bruce had started to undress, stripping off his trousers. He stood there in his shirt and flannels.

“What is it?” he asked.

Clark shrugged. “Nothing. I … I just hope when we find Morgan we’ll at least get some answers.”

“Yeah, me too. Come here.”

Clark went to his lover eagerly, wrapping his arms around him. Bruce kissed him, licking his mouth. Clark felt the tickling from Bruce’s beard. He had let the beard grow a little more in the past few days. In winter, he often grew a full beard but shaved it in summer, saying it tended to get in the way when he had to wear a mask.

Clark slid his hand down to Bruce’s crotch. His lover was already hard. Clark wrapped his hand around his lover’s shaft, stroking firmly until Bruce groaned. Without being told, Clark sank to his knees, pushing the flannels aside for better access, and licked the head of his friend’s cock.

“Ahh, god, Clark.” Bruce kept up a chant as Clark traced the vein from top to bottom, then took each nut in his mouth and bathed them with his tongue. Bruce’s flesh was slightly sour with sweat, but Clark didn’t care. He continued, dragging his tongue up the shaft and tracing the delicate edge of the tip, hearing his lover groan once more. 

Bruce thrust his hips in a clear signal of what he wanted and Clark obliged, taking the head in his mouth and sucking. Bruce placed his hand on Clark’s head and began to thrust in earnest. Clark swallowed, letting his lover thrust deeper. 

“God, Kid!”

Bruce moved away, hurriedly pulling off his shirt and flannel before laying on the bed, completely nude.

“Come on, Kid,” he said.

Clark stripped off and lay next to his partner. Bruce rolled on top, kissing him hard. Clark groaned quietly as his lover’s hard cock brushed against his own, leaving a wet trail of pre-cum over their bodies. 

Bruce’s teeth nipped at the flesh joining his neck and shoulder. 

“Wish I could mark you,” Bruce muttered. “Let everyone know you’re mine.”

Maybe no one else would ever know but Clark did and that was enough for him. 

“Bruce,” he moaned. 

“I’ve got you, Kid.”

“Please,” he moaned again. 

Bruce sucked on his fingers and made them wet before plunging inside Clark’s hole, stretching him a little. Clark lifted himself up, his legs on his lover’s shoulders so he could tilt his pelvis. He felt the nudge of Bruce’s cock, then the hard push as his lover entered him. 

He bit back his cries as Bruce thrust hard and deep, careful not to yell out anything. People might know they slept together in the same room, but he still didn’t like the idea of anyone hearing them. 

Bruce grasped Clark’s cock and began jacking him with firm strokes. Clark tried to focus, but between Bruce’s thrusts inside him and the hard strokes on his own cock, he lost it, coming hard, muscles clamping down on his lover. Bruce cried out, coming almost at the same time.

They lay together, limbs tangled. It felt as if the lovemaking had somehow reconnected them. Bruce would probably never admit it, but Clark knew his friend and partner needed him. 

Bruce seemed to notice his introspection.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Us. Well, I mean, how it would be if one of us, you know, died.”

“I don’t think I could survive if I lost you,” Bruce confessed. “I very nearly did.”

“I know,” Clark said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. You’re alive and you’re with me and that’s all that matters.”

Still, sometimes it bothered Clark how some considered it a perversion against God that two men could do together what they did. He had vague memories of going to church. His Ma had gone every Sunday as far back as he could remember, although Pa had always begged off because there was always work to do around the farm. When Clark was young, Ma had taken him with her.

A year or so ago, he and Bruce had met a man who was some kind of preacher. How he knew they were together Clark didn’t know, but the man had advised them to repent their sins and fight against Satan as only the devil could make them do such unspeakable things.

“Bruce?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think it’s wrong? What we do?”

“What? Robbing banks … yes, of course it’s wrong.”

“No, not that. Us.”

Bruce sat up slightly, crooking his elbow and leaning his head on his hand.

“Are you thinking about what that preacher said a while back?”

“Well, is it?”

“Clark, I’ve read the Bible and nowhere in the Ten Commandments does it say ‘thou shalt not lie with another man’. I guess what I’m saying is, it shouldn’t matter what some Bible-thumping preacher says. We know how we feel. How can that ever be wrong?”

“I just … you’re my family, Bruce. And I get scared something’s gonna come along and take that away from me, like they did my folks.”

Bruce rubbed his arm in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

“Clark, nothing’s going to happen as long as we stay together. Besides, Lionel did that to your folks. He killed them. And he’s dead. All right? Come on, we need to get some sleep. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

Clark nodded, snuggling into his partner’s side. Maybe it could never completely quell his fears but Bruce was right. As long as they stayed together they could take care of each other. Protect each other.

Bruce fell asleep right away while Clark lay awake. He couldn’t help thinking about the dream he had had when he had been unconscious, or maybe dying. Who was Lara and what had she meant? He knew about the existence of other planets but it was impossible that he could be from one of them. 

The answers had to be somewhere. The question was where.

Knowing he wouldn’t get those answers any time soon, Clark let the even breaths of his partner lull him to sleep. 

Next morning, they went downstairs to a hearty breakfast with some of the marshal’s men. Jimmy grinned at them over his scrambled eggs. 

“Guess you boys’ll be heading to the mountains,” he said.

Clark nodded. He liked Jimmy. He was friendly and seemed like a decent man. 

“We’ll be heading over to Wichita. Got some trouble brewin’,” Jimmy told them through a mouthful of eggs. “Might be passing by the Sullivan ranch.”

“Sure would appreciate you looking in on the girls,” Bruce said quietly. “Oliver will probably ride to Lois’ sister’s place and escort them back to the ranch. Least, that’s what he said he was gonna do.”

Clark nodded his agreement. Jimmy smiled.

“Ain’t no problem,” he said. “That Chloe’s one mighty fine lookin’ lady.”

Clark smiled. It seemed Jimmy had a thing for Chloe, which he thought was great. At least Chloe would have someone, if not to take care of her, since she was well capable of taking care of herself, but would look out for her. 

Perry came in and smiled at them.

“Guess Jimmy’s told you where we’re headed. You boys keep in touch now.”

Clark smiled at the older man.

“We will, and thank you. For everything.”

“Ah, you’re a good kid, Kent. Sure am glad you’re on our side though. Good luck with findin’ Morgan.”

“Thank you sir,” Bruce replied. 

Perry put his hat on his head and strode toward the door.

“Jimmy, if you’re done feedin’ that big mouth o’yours we got some ridin’ to do.”

“Yessir boss,” Jimmy said, rising from the table and hurrying after his boss. 

Clark grinned at Bruce, who chuckled. 

“Good guy, that Jimmy,” Bruce commented. “Chloe could do worse.”

“Long as he doesn’t treat her like some delicate flower,” Clark replied. “She ain’t.”

“That’s for sure.” Bruce lifted his fork and took a mouthful of eggs. “These are good eggs. Sure wish we could settle somewhere. I’d have eggs every day.”

“Maybe when the governor gives us our pardon, you could go back to Gotham,” Clark told him.

Bruce looked steadily at him. “You’d be coming with me. Ain’t no way I’d leave you behind Kid.”

Clark nodded. Bruce frowned.

“I mean it,” he said. “We’re in this together.”

“I know,” Clark told him. “I mean, sometimes I wish my folks were still here, but I don’t miss them so much when I’m with you.”

Bruce grinned. “Yeah, I feel the same way about you, Kid. Come on, let’s go get saddled up and get on our way. Weather’s turning and I wanna get to the mountains before it starts to turn bad.”

Clark started to follow him, then realised Bruce had left his hat on the table. Clark grabbed it and ran after his friend, dumping the hat low on his head so the brim covered his eyes. Bruce chuckled and readjusted it, then whacked Clark on the behind. Clark snickered and ran out, daring his partner to chase him as they went to fetch their horses. 

As they mounted their horses and started to follow the streets out of town Clark couldn’t help smiling to himself. His heart was full of an emotion he realised he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was happy. 

***

Bruce couldn’t help but notice the way Clark was acting. He seemed to be sitting straighter in the saddle and he had a twinkle in his eye. Bruce was glad of it. Maybe they hadn’t completely won the war against Lex and all the other members of the gang, but they had won a battle and come through the other side fairly unscathed. That was something to celebrate at least.

He shivered slightly as a cold wind blew up. Storm clouds were rolling in from the north which meant it was going to rain. They had at least four days’ ride to the mountains and it would take another day for them to get to the mountain camp. That was if the rain held off. Horses tended to get very antsy in storms.

“Gonna rain,” Clark observed.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we should run to the camp,” Clark said.

“We need the horses,” Bruce told him. 

“Still, it might help if we wanna sneak up on Morgan.”

Well, that was a point. They had no idea whether Morgan had heard about Lex’s capture, but it wouldn’t take long for the news to get out. Edge had three days on them, four, counting today. Earp hadn’t said exactly where the shootout had happened but if it was Dodge, it was on the other side of the mountains. Edge could very likely beat them to the camp.

The other thing he needed to consider was if the storm did blow up, they couldn’t travel. They would have to find shelter somewhere, since the horses would be even more reluctant to go on, especially if there was thunder and lightning. 

“Let’s see how far we can get today and make a decision,” he advised quietly. 

Clark nodded, appearing happy to go along with whatever Bruce decided. He’d often said he considered Bruce to be the leader in various situations and knew very well Bruce didn’t like him using his abilities if he could help it. He still worried about his partner being seen. 

They rode for a few hours just talking, or exchanging jokes back and forth. Clark was definitely in a good mood, warbling something that Bruce either didn’t recognise or was an old tune sung very badly. Clark just grinned at him as if he didn’t care that his singing was that bad. Bruce laughed at him, the attitude catching and broke out into his own dirty rendition of another song he’d heard. 

Clark began laughing so hard it seemed as if he almost fell off his horse. Bruce returned the laughter, his deep voice echoing in the valley. 

Clark guided his horse closer so their knees almost touched. 

“Race you,” he said. He gestured with a nod of his head to the end of the pass about half a mile away.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him. “You’ll cheat,” he replied.

“Don’t you trust me?” Clark asked, grinning.

“No.”

His partner laughed again and snapped the reins.

“Giddap!” he yelled, nudging the horse’s flank with his heel. His ride took off. 

Bruce nudged his own horse and began racing after his partner. The sound of the horses galloping echoed loudly. Clark was laughing gleefully, daring Bruce, who urged his ride to run faster. The two men raced through the pass, hurling mock insults back and forth. Bruce managed to edge his horse ahead, whipping it lightly with the end of the reins to make it run faster, but it was clearly tiring. 

Clark pulled ahead, then slowed as he reached the end of the trail through the pass before turning and grinning.

“I win,” he crowed.

Bruce reached over to try to cuff him, but Clark dodged. It was little wonder he was often called Kid since he was such a kid sometimes, but Bruce didn’t mind. 

They slowed their horses to a walk. Bruce could hear his one snorting from the exertion.

“Sounds like he needs a drink,” Clark said. “I think the river’s up ahead, about quarter mile or so.”

“Why don’t we stop for a rest,” Bruce suggested.

“All right.”

The wind had started to gather in intensity in the few hours they had already travelled and a gust whipped up, trying to take their hats. Clark clapped a hand on his head and looked up, frowning. His horse neighed and seemed a little disturbed by the change in the weather. It pawed the ground restlessly.

“Whoa, easy boy,” Clark said.

It whinnied and snorted. Bruce’s began behaving the same way. He studied the sky, not liking the ominous black clouds toward the north.

“Something’s coming,” he said.

“We should find shelter,” Clark said, sounding uneasy. He turned his head toward Bruce, his eyes narrowing as he listened. “Storm up ahead.”

“I don’t like the looks of those clouds.”

They were too open. The pass was almost a quarter mile behind them and he hadn’t seen any place to shelter on their way through. 

“We may have to leave the horses,” Clark said. “We can’t take them with us.”

Bruce knew he was right. It would take too long to get under cover and the best thing for the animals was to let them find their own shelter. 

Clark’s horse suddenly reared up. Bruce frowned as his partner struggled to keep the horse under control but it bucked as if trying to get him off. Clearly something was disturbing it. It reared again, this time succeeding in tossing Clark off.

Bruce dismounted his own horse before it could do the same.

“Grab the gear,” he told Clark.

The wind had got up even more, whistling in their ears. Bruce found himself struggling against the force of it. Something was definitely coming, he thought. 

The horses neighed in what sounded like panic, but needed no prompting. As soon as they removed the saddles and other gear the two animals took off running. Bruce found himself knocked off his feet as another gust blasted him.

Clark ran over, his hand out to help him up. Clearly his partner’s strength was enough to keep him upright, but the wind was whipping his clothing badly. He’d removed his hat, tucking it in his pants. 

“Look,” Clark gasped, pointing to the north. Bruce turned and followed his friend’s shocked gaze. A funnel cloud had started to form. It hadn’t touched ground yet, but it was getting there.

“Twister,” Bruce replied. They’d come across them before. Kansas was known for it. He started to pick up their gear. Thunder crashed and the sky lit up. It would be raining in a matter of minutes. 

Clark did his best to secure their gear, the saddlebags slung over his shoulders. The bridles and saddles they could do little about. Bruce hated to leave them behind, given how expensive they would be to replace, but they could only carry so much. 

He looked again for the twister. The sky had darkened even more and the weather had turned cold, as if it was going to hail. The funnel cloud had touched down.

“We gotta go!” Clark yelled over the whistle of the wind. He wrapped his arms around Bruce. It was an awkward embrace, but they had no choice. “Hold on tight to me!”

Bruce instinctively pressed his face to his lover’s chest, holding him tightly. He closed his eyes knowing he would be dizzy from the speed they were travelling. 

As Clark ran, Bruce considered their options. He knew they couldn’t go north, as it would take them straight into the path of the twister. Yet if they went too far east, it would take them too far off the trail and they might get turned around. 

The other problem was the twister could suddenly change direction. Bruce had seen it before when he’d been out on a job with some of the older members of the gang. The twister had been as scary as hell then.

“Bruce, we’re here.”

Bruce opened his eyes and looked around, realising they were in a cave of some sort.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“I remembered these caves from when I was little. Pa found them.”

He looked at his partner. “You mean, we’re in Smallville?”

“Close to it, I guess. I didn’t know how far the twister would go and I figured this would get us close enough to the camp.”

They were near to where they’d started this journey. Clark had travelled almost a hundred miles in what seemed like minutes.

“We can shelter here,” Clark said. 

Bruce nodded. It was pouring rain outside, but from the sound of it, there was a leak in the cave roof as well. Lightning flashed, brightening the cavern for a moment. Bruce paused, staring at the wall. He could swear he saw something. 

“Gimme a match,” he said.

“Why? What is it?”

“You’ve been down here before?” Bruce asked, taking the match Clark handed him and striking it against the rock. The match sparked and ignited.

“Not since I was little,” Clark told him. “Why?”

Bruce used the little bit of light he had from the match to find what appeared to be a stick on the ground. He picked it up, grabbing a cloth and wrapping it around the stick. It probably wouldn’t work, he thought. He was surprised when the lit match ignited the material. 

“Uh, Bruce, look down,” Clark said.

Frowning, Bruce did so. He realised there was a skeleton on the ground and what looked like the remnants of an old Civil War uniform. The skull had a large crack in it. The ‘stick’ wasn’t a stick at all, but a bone. Either a leg or an arm.

“What could have done that?” Clark asked.

“Indians, maybe,” Bruce told him.

“Why?”

He had no idea, but was hoping the cave might tell him. As he lifted the flaming torch, he illuminated the rock walls.

“Clark, look at this.”

Clark frowned, moving closer to peer at the drawings on the walls. There appeared to be some kind of symbol which Bruce couldn’t figure out. It looked to him like some sort of flying machine and a storm.

“What is this?” Clark asked

“I don’t know,” Bruce replied. “But I’m thinking it has something to do with that dream you had.”

A loud clap of thunder echoed through the cavern, startling them both. Clark gasped loudly. At first, Bruce thought it had been because of the thunder, until he looked around at his partner. Clark was staring at the cave entrance, at the silhouette of a tall man. 

Lightning flashed again, showing the man’s face. He had long, silvery hair worn in braids. As the thunder crashed, the man growled. No, Bruce realised. It wasn’t the man, it was the wolf standing beside him. It growled again, then pounced.


	13. Kawatche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark meets the Kawatche tribe and learns a little more about his background

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not using the politically correct term here as I want to be true to the time period this is supposed to be set in.

Clark immediately pushed Bruce aside and stepped in the path of the wolf. The momentum was enough for him to go crashing to the cave floor. The wolf snarled, baring its fangs, saliva dripping from its mouth.

Clark snarled back. It snapped its jaws at him, trying to bite him. He managed to get one hand on the wolf’s snout and shoved it back forcefully. The wolf yelped in surprise, but wasn’t hurt. He quickly got to his feet and shooting a dart of heat vision at the wolf’s paw. It yelped again and stared up at him in what appeared to Clark to be surprise.

“Kyla,” the man shouted.

Bruce, meanwhile, had managed to get his gun from his holster and was aiming at the wolf. Clark stopped him. The man was speaking in another language to the animal, and it seemed to be listening. 

“Bruce, don’t!”

His partner looked at him with a puzzled frown. Clark couldn’t explain it but there was something odd about the animal.

The old man stared at him and spoke.

“Naman,” he said.

Clark stared at him. “What?”

The man pointed to the drawing that looked like a flying machine, then to a figure of a man.

“Naman,” he repeated, before pointing at Clark.

“What or who is Naman?” Bruce asked, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his neck.

Clark couldn’t be sure, but from the gestures the old man was making, he wondered.

“I think he’s talking about me,” he said. 

His attention had been off the wolf as he tried to understand what the man was saying. The next thing he knew, a girl was standing next to them, wearing a simple cloak.

“He says you are Naman.”

Bruce stared at the girl. “Where did you come from?”

“I am Kyla. This is my grandfather. He is the leader of our tribe.”

“Tribe?” Clark asked.

“We are the Kawatche,” she said.

Clark stared at her curiously. 

“How do you know our language?” he asked.

“We learned it from the soldiers. The ones who hunt our animals and shoot our warriors.”

Bruce looked down at the skeleton.

“Was he one of them?”

Kyla nodded. “He tried to fight one of our warriors.”

Clark guessed there was much more to the fight than the soldier trying to shoot the warrior.

The old man spoke to the girl and they exchanged words in their own language. Clark frowned at her, waiting until she was done talking to her grandfather.

“Who is Naman?” he asked.

“He is the man who fell from the sky,” Kyla replied. “He is as strong as ten men and can start fires with his eyes.”

Thunder crashed but it sounded like it was moving away. 

“Storm’s moving,” Bruce observed. 

It was still raining heavily. Clark could hear the water dripping inside the cave, toward the back of the cavern. From the light coming in from outside, by the time the rain stopped it would be too late for them to try to make it to the camp. 

Joseph again said something to his grand-daughter and she turned and looked at them.

“Naman, you and your friend may come to our camp. Stay with us.”

Clark frowned at her. “Thank you, but I am not Naman. My name is Clark. This is Bruce.”

“But you are,” she said. “You start fire with your eyes.”

His frown deepened. “How do you know that?” he asked. Bruce looked at him with a shocked expression. 

“She’s the wolf, Clark.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think about it. She couldn’t have been waiting outside, yet where is the wolf? And why did the old man call her name when he was calling off the wolf?”

Clark frowned. He’d thought there was something strange about the wolf, but he would have never thought of that. 

“Is that true?” he asked.

Instead of the girl responding, the old man did.

“True,” he said.

“We are called skinwalkers,” Kyla explained. “The legend of our people is written on these walls. That is why we protect it.”

“What is the legend?” Bruce asked, his hand on Clark’s arm. Clark had the oddest feeling it was a proprietary gesture, as if his partner was marking his territory. From the way Kyla frowned, he wondered if she had more than a passing interest in Naman.

“A man came from the stars and fell in love with the mother of our people. Out of that, the Kawatche people were born. One day he left and flew back into the sky, promising he would send another.”

She looked out and smiled. “The rain has stopped. Come.”

“But … I want to hear more,” Clark said. If Naman could really do all these things then was it possible he was Naman? No, it just seemed so strange. Then again, there was the dream of his birth mother who had told him his mother and father had sent him here. But from where? he thought. 

They followed Kyla and her grandfather to the Kawatche camp. Clark had met a couple of Indians from one of the tribes that lived near the mountain hideout, but they had kept out of the gang’s way and the gang had done the same. Lionel had warned the gang to stay away from the ‘natives’ unless they had something to trade. On the odd occasion they would trade clothing or food with the tribe but that was it. That was mostly done on the mountain near the hideout, rather than in the valley where the tribe hunted.

So this was the first time he had actually seen an Indian camp. There were several small structures which seemed to be made of a stiff material, and some appeared to be animal skins patched together. 

Clark could see about a dozen young men gathered, talking in their own language. They stared as Clark and Bruce passed them, but didn’t make a move toward them, nodding at something Joseph barked at them. Clearly when Kyla had said Joseph was their leader, she had meant he was their chief, and thus someone to be respected. 

“Come,” Kyla said, beckoning. 

They sat by a large fire, warming themselves. Or Bruce was, at least. Clark copied his partner’s movements, uneasy about the tribe thinking he was the man from the stars. 

An older woman gave them each what looked like some kind of meat. Bruce nodded his thanks and began eating, as if to be polite. Clark followed suit. 

A few men approached them and began speaking to Joseph in his own language. Joseph talked rapidly, but Clark managed to catch the word Naman. The men looked at him curiously, then spoke again to Joseph. Bruce looked a little uneasy, his hand on the butt of his gun.

“Why do you do that?” Kyla asked.

“Do what?” Bruce replied tersely.

“Are you soldiers? Why do you have guns?”

“We’re not soldiers,” Clark said. “We’re … outlaws.” He glanced at Bruce, who had stiffened, but didn’t object. Since they were still outlaws as far as the gang were concerned, Clark decided to stick to that for now.

“Outlaws?” Kyla asked. 

“We rob banks,” Bruce told her. Clark frowned at his partner, wondering what was with the tone. From the way Bruce was acting, Clark wondered if he was jealous or something. 

“Naman would not do that. He is meant to be the saviour of our people.”

“Tell me more about Naman,” Clark said. “Where does he come from?”

The girl shook her head. “The legend says he came to Earth in a rain of fire.”

“That still does not prove Clark is Naman,” Bruce told her. 

“That does not prove he’s not,” she replied, returning Bruce’s cold stare with a cool glare of her own.

Clark knew there was no point in arguing. All he could do was try to get more information out of her. 

He and Bruce were sent to sleep in one of their shelters, a small lean-to attached to another structure, covered with what looked like cowhide. When Clark went to lie with his partner, Bruce turned away from him. 

“Bruce?” Clark asked, puzzled by his friend’s behaviour.

“Not here,” Bruce replied. “I don’t think they’d understand. Besides, I think Kyla would be upset if she knew.”

Clark frowned. Why would Kyla be upset? He tried again to get close, but Bruce pulled away. Sighing, Clark rolled onto his side, so they lay back to back, and tried to go to sleep.

It felt like he had barely dozed off when he heard Kyla whispering to him.

“There is something I want to show you,” she said.

Blinking sleep out of his eyes, Clark stumbled out from under the lean-to and followed her, quickly realising she was taking him back to the cave. The early morning sun was glaringly bright. The cave was dark after the sunlight and it took a little while for his eyes to adjust.

“Tell me more about the skinwalkers,” Clark said.

“The man from the stars brought special green stones with him which had strange effects on the people. That’s when the first skinwalkers appeared.”

“Did they all become wolves?” he asked.

“No. Only some. And not all were wolves.”

“Is Joseph?”

“No,” Kyla replied. “Come see this.”

Clark looked at the wall where she was pointing and saw what looked like a two-headed monster. 

“What’s that?”

“That is Naman,” she said, pointing to one head. “And that is Sageeth. They are brothers, but one day, Sageeth turns against Naman and together they are the balance between good and evil.”

Lex, he thought. After all, Lex had been like a brother to him. But if Lex was in jail …

“You should be careful of your friend,” Kyla advised. 

Clark frowned at her, not sure what she meant, then slowly realised she was talking about Bruce.

“Bruce isn’t Sageeth,” he said confidently.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Clark ignored her remark and turned away. He saw a picture of a woman with what looked like a piece of jewellery with a stone shaped like a diamond in the centre. 

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“The woman Naman is destined to be with,” Kyla said dreamily. She moved her wrist and Clark saw she was wearing a bracelet, similar to what was pictured. Kyla noticed his gaze and gently touched the turquoise gem with her fingers, tracing its edges.

“This has been passed down from mother to daughter. No one really knows how old it is.”

“Here you are,” a voice said. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

***

Bruce didn’t like the way Kyla was looking at Clark. Or the way she had talked about Naman’s destiny. It was fairly clear she thought she was the one. 

Clark seemed to realise what she was implying as he stepped back, looking uneasy. 

“I’m not Naman,” he said.

“But you are,” she said. “I know it.”

He shook his head, adamant she was wrong. Bruce wrapped a hand around his friend’s arm, sending the message to the girl that he was ‘hands-off’. To her at least.

“We need to get moving,” he said.

Clark nodded. He looked at Kyla. “We have to go.”

“You must stay, Naman.”

“I’m not Naman,” he insisted.

“You are,” she replied, just as insistently, her hand on Clark’s other arm. “I know you are.”

Bruce wasn’t going to get into a tug of war and he was too annoyed by this girl’s attempts to persuade Clark to her way of thinking. He knew exactly what this girl wanted. She thought Clark liked her when he was only being nice. He really had no idea what the girl was doing. 

“Fine,” he said, his lips tightening into a thin line. “You do what you want. I’m going to the camp.”

Clark stared at him for a moment, a puzzled frown on his face. Bruce stalked away, huffing loudly. He overheard Kyla telling Clark to ignore him, but the hurried footsteps told him Clark was following him.

“Bruce. What’s wrong?” 

Clark grabbed his hand and Bruce was forced to stop.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you see what she’s doing? She thinks she’s destined for you.”

“But I don’t feel that way. I don’t even know her. Besides, what makes you think …”

Bruce sighed. “I saw the way she was looking at you, Clark.” He didn’t want to say it, but he thought the girl wasn’t going to let go that easily. 

“But I’m with you,” Clark said. “I’m going to Gotham with you when the year is up. Or don’t you want to be with me anymore?”

Bruce softened, looking down at his partner. His lover.

“Of course I want to be with you, Clark,” he said. “How could I not?”

He leaned forward and kissed his partner gently on the lips. Clark smiled.

“Come on. Let’s get going,” Clark said. “Maybe they have a couple of horses we could ride.”

They returned to the Kawatche camp and found someone who was able to provide them with a couple of horses. Clark went off to grab their things while Bruce observed from a distance. He noticed Kyla, who had returned to camp and was clearly supposed to be doing something with her grandfather, shooting daggers at him. He didn’t care. Clark was with him and that was that. 

Joseph approached them and smiled, holding out a hand. Clark frowned at him slightly, then seemed to realise Joseph was holding what appeared to be a turquoise stone on a thin strip of leather. 

“For you, Naman.”

Clark accepted it gracefully. Joseph then turned to Bruce, holding another necklace. It seemed the old man wasn’t as ignorant. He at least didn’t seem unhappy about it as he placed one hand over Clark’s and one over Bruce’s, smiling at them. The message was unspoken but clear. Take care of each other. 

“Thank you,” Bruce said. 

They got on the horses and started to ride out of the camp. Clark seemed pensive.

“Do you really think I am Naman?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Clark. A lot of these stories get passed down from generation to generation and each time they get embellished a little more so they barely resemble the original story.”

“But I can start fire with my eyes,” Clark pointed out. “And I am stronger than ten men.”

“That is true, but I don’t think we should put too much stock in the story, that’s all.”

Clark nodded. “I guess.”

“Look, when we find Morgan, we’ll talk to him. Maybe we can get some answers from him.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They found the trail which would take them into the mountains and headed toward it. Bruce was about to lead his horse in front when something hit him from behind. His horse whinnied in protest and possibly fear. Bruce found himself falling hard onto the ground below.

“Whoa,” Clark called out, clearly trying to calm the horse. 

Bruce rolled onto his back, trying to see what had knocked him off. He was confronted by a white wolf. Kyla.

She snarled, baring her fangs.

“Kyla!” Clark cried out. He got off his horse, struggling to hold onto both animals as they panicked, but the wolf wasn’t interested in either of them. She had leaped onto Bruce, her paws on his chest. 

Bruce lay still, his gaze locked on the furious eyes of the animal. Kyla was clearly jealous. Why else would she attack, he thought.

“Kyla, I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he said, not even sure if she understood him in wolf form, “but this isn’t funny.”

She continued to snarl at him, practically frothing at the mouth. There was murder in her eyes. Bruce stayed completely still as she snapped her jaws at him and growled menacingly. He couldn’t even move his hand to get at his gun. 

“Kyla, get off him!” Clark snapped. 

He had somehow managed to get the horses away and secured their reins to a tree branch.

Kyla ignored him, still snarling. She yelped and Bruce realised Clark had fired a heat burst rather than use his gun, clearly afraid he would hit Bruce. 

Clark pulled her off and she turned her head, snapping her jaws on his arm. Bruce shifted away as the wolf fought with Clark, knocking him to the ground. She was clearly stronger in wolf form, but still not as strong as his partner. 

“Kyla, I don’t want to hurt you, but you have to let go.”

She continued to snarl and snap her jaws. Bruce pulled out his gun. Clark clearly heard the click as Bruce cocked it and looked at him. 

“Don’t shoot her, Bruce.”

“She wants to kill me, Clark. She’s jealous, don’t you see that?”

Clark looked thoughtful, then nodded. The wolf again tried to bite him, but yelped. It suddenly changed form and Kyla looked up at him with a miserable expression. She was naked but didn’t seem to care.

“I just wanted to be with you, Naman,” she said.

“Kyla, I’m with Bruce. I don’t like girls like that.”

“Why not?” She seemed confused, as if the thought had never occurred to her that Clark couldn’t like her that way.

Clark shook his head and sighed. Bruce knew there was no way he could explain it that would make things better. Kyla began to cry.

Clark picked her up in his arms. “I’m gonna take her back,” he said, speeding off before Bruce could stop him. 

He went to the horses and grabbed the reins, getting them ready to move on again, peering back along the trail waiting for Clark to return. His friend returned after a few minutes. 

“I told Joseph what happened. I think he understood.”

Bruce nodded. He had the impression that Joseph understood more than Clark realised. Not that Clark was stupid, by any means, but he just couldn’t read people as well. 

They got back on their horses and started back along the trail.

“Thanks,” Bruce said quietly.

“For what?” Clark asked.

“Saving me from Kyla.”

It seemed a little ironic that he would need saving from an angry and jealous young girl. Then again, the girl had been a wolf, which was different. 

Clark looked at him and smiled softly.

“I’ll always save you,” he said. 

Bruce looked at his lover, but couldn’t form into words just how much Clark meant to him. It didn’t matter. Clark knew anyway. 

The weather turned chilly again later that day and it started to rain again. Clark managed to find them some shelter where they could also shelter the horses and they spent the night curled up together to keep warm. 

There were definite signs that winter was on its way and they had few clothes to keep them warm. Bruce was glad when, three days later, they made it to the mountain camp. 

Just as he’d calculated, Morgan was already at the hideout. Bruce could see smoke coming from the chimney of the cabin Lionel had built for himself and the younger boys. He gestured to Clark to dismount a fair distance away so they could watch. It was mid-afternoon so Morgan wouldn’t have retired yet. 

They watched the cabin for a while, but didn’t see anyone coming or going. Bruce was about to tell Clark to forget it and just go on down when he heard the sound of a twig snapping behind him.

“Now you boys have obviously forgotten everything we taught you about sneaking up on people,” a gravelly voice said.

Bruce turned and stared at the tall, fair-haired man. 

“Hello Morgan.”


	14. Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark finally learns the truth about how he came to be with the gang.

Clark watched as Morgan stirred something in the pot over the fire. The fair-haired man looked up and noticed him watching. He had grown a scraggly beard and his intense blue eyes were really the only thing that stood out in his face.

“Something on your mind, Kid?”

Clark shook his head. “No.”

Bruce glanced at him and shook his head slightly, then looked back at Morgan.

“Heard there was some kind of trouble over Dodge.”

“Yeah.” Edge’s voice was hoarse, like he was coming down with something. Sickness wasn’t uncommon, even among those who spent much of the warmer months running up and down the country, barely keeping ahead of the law. “Carmine’s dead.”

“We heard,” Clark said shortly. 

Morgan was quiet as he continued stirring, concentrating on the stew he was cooking. Bruce was watching him warily. Lionel’s former partner was a man of few words, but silence was something else.

Back when Lionel and Morgan had been boys, they’d run around on the streets of Metropolis. From what Clark had been told, Lionel’s mother and father had been cruel and Lionel had found solace with his only friend. When they’d both been fifteen, Lionel had decided to hold up a bank, convincing his friend to work with him. The robbery had gone south quickly and they’d been forced to flee. 

“So what happened with Falcone?” Bruce asked finally.

“Earp.” Morgan’s piercing blue-eyed gaze looked them over. Clark almost felt like he was being turned inside out. “Where are you boys coming from? Thought you had a job for Lex?”

“Job was a bust,” Bruce told him. 

“Hmm.”

Clark narrowed his eyes as he glared at the older man. Edge had once tried to seduce Clark and Bruce had threatened to bust his nose if he ever tried it again. Judging from the flat nose the man already had, it had already been broken at least once. 

Clark made no secret of the fact that he didn’t like Edge and never had. Bruce was just as wary of the older man, although part of it had as much to do with what the other man had pulled than anything else. 

They sat in silence, watching as the fair-haired outlaw began dishing up the stew. Most of them could cook, after a fashion, but Edge was the better. Clark supposed Lex had often visited his mistress so he could get some decent food, rather than the mostly tasteless fare the rest of the gang dished up when they were camped in the mountains. 

Bruce quickly ate his stew, clearly wanting to spend as little time around Morgan as possible. He glanced at Clark, then shifted his gaze to the other room. Clark frowned at him, but nodded. He started to eat his own more quickly, using cornbread to mop up the gravy. 

“You boys sure seem in a real hurry,” Edge observed. “Got somewhere to be?”

“Something we need to do,” Bruce muttered getting up and dumping his bowl in the pail. The bowls would be washed in the creek in the morning. He started to make his way toward the other room.

“I see.” Bruce turned his head, but didn’t look at the older outlaw.

“Ain’t no business of yours, Morgan.”

Morgan’s gaze was cold as he glared at Bruce.

“Like hell it ain’t. Whatever you boys’re planning, you …”

Clark turned on the man. “It ain’t your problem,” he said. 

Morgan grabbed his arm as he got to his feet and started to follow his partner.

“You think I don’t know what this is about? You boys wouldn’t have come back here if you had no reason to.”

Clark shook him off.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

“You ain’t gonna find your answers in there,” Edge told him.

Clark paused and looked at the man.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Lionel.”

“What about him?”

“Think I don’t know why he took you, Kid? I ain’t as dumb as I look.”

Bruce turned and strode back, wrapping a hand around the older outlaw’s throat.

“You better start talking old man.”

Morgan’s blue eyes flashed dangerously.

“Get your hands off me, boy.”

“Morgan …” Clark hissed.

The older man looked at him, then back at Bruce, who dropped his hand. Morgan sat down at the rickety table, gesturing for them to sit as well.

“Heard about Lex.”

Bruce scowled. “News sure travels fast round these parts.”

“Helps to get in good with a lawman,” the man said smugly.

Clark had no doubt that Morgan knew a few of them. How else would he have known about the lawmen’s attempt to flush them out of their hideout two years ago? 

The older man sighed and looked worn and tired. Clark studied him, realising just how old Morgan was looking. Morgan ran a hand up his face and over his fair hair, then looked at Clark.

“Hell, Kid. It’s hell.”

“What is?”

“This life. Men like us, we’re lucky if we get old.”

Clark understood that. Lionel had often complained that what they did was a young man’s game, and an old man’s folly. Maybe that was why Lex had been able to get the jump on his father, he thought. There had certainly been no love lost between the two men. Lionel had to have known that Lex would eventually turn on him. 

It was rare that men like Morgan lived to see their twilight years. Lionel had once told them that they were lucky if they got to see forty. Most would face the hangman’s noose long before, or if they were even luckier, they vanished, went off to some foreign country where they were never seen or heard from again.

That had happened to some guys from the Hole in the Wall gang, according to Carmine. After years of notoriety, two of them had run to Central America. No one knew for sure, but they all thought the pair had died running from the authorities, yet some believed they still saw them. 

“Get on with it, Morgan,” Bruce warned.

The old man shot Bruce a look, but didn’t reply. 

“Knew old Carmine had had it long before the marshal got him.”

“What happened?” Clark asked, kicking Bruce under the table as he made an impatient noise.

“Planned on hitting the Dodge City bank. Falcone was sickening for something. Sure as hell he wasn’t right. We got in that there bank but a marshal was there. Almost like he knew somethin’ was gonna happen. Carmine went to shoot but he weren’t fast enough. Marshal shot him before he could even get his finger on the trigger.”

“This ain’t telling us what you know, Morgan.”

Again the old man turned his blue eyes on Bruce and sighed.

“Always impatient, Bruce, that was always your problem. Go get me that bottle of sour mash.”

Bruce shot him a look, but rose from the table and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the nook where Morgan had always kept it. He picked up two tin cups and poured a measure in each, before thrusting one of the cups at Morgan. 

They each drank. Clark sighed and shook his head. Bruce was right. This was getting them nowhere. The older outlaw turned a wily gaze on him. 

“Lionel always knew you were special. Knew your Ma and Pa. Long time ago. Long time ago. Lionel and your Pa came to blows once. Seems he took a liking to your Ma, wanted her for hisself, but your Ma only ever wanted your Pa.”

Morgan explained that he and Lionel had been captured by lawmen at the beginning of the war between the north and the south and sent off to fight, but they’d deserted not long after they’d been sent to one particularly bloody battle. Lionel had met a young man who had also been drafted. After Lionel deserted, even knowing what that entailed, he had built the cabin in the mountains, first hiding from the army who would have dragged him back for court martial, then from the law once they’d hooked up with Carmine and begun building their reputation as bank robbers. 

A couple of years after the end of the war, Lionel had been in Smallville when he had happened upon Jonathan Kent. Jonathan, not knowing Lionel had deserted, had been pleased to see his old friend and invited Lionel to the farm to meet his wife and their young son. Lionel also had a son, Lex, by a woman he’d met in Metropolis a few years before the war. 

Morgan continued to explain that Lionel had still kept visiting the farm, clearly to try his luck with Clark’s mother. One day he’d gone to the farm not long after Clark’s mother and father had taken him in and his Pa had told Lionel that Clark was his brother’s child. Lionel had almost believed it, until he’d seen a three year old Clark lifting something twice his size and just as heavy.

For years, Lionel had schemed and planned, knowing if he could just take Clark, he could raise him and teach him. There would be no stopping them with Clark’s strength. When he discovered through Lex that there were rocks which made him sick, Lionel had searched the countryside for more of them, planning on using them to control Clark.

The night Clark’s mother and father had died, Lionel had gone to the farm, taking one of the rocks with him. He and Morgan had worn masks when they had visited the farm, not that there had been any point, since Jonathan had known who they were. He’d taken his rifle and threatened them only Morgan was faster, shooting Jonathan in the chest.

Martha had obviously heard the shots as she came running out of the farmhouse with another rifle. Lionel had grabbed her and stunned her, then tied her up in the barn next to her husband’s body. 

Morgan had lit the fire, ignoring Martha’s screams for help. Lionel had spotted Clark running to help his mother and had hit him with the strange green rock. 

Clark had heard enough. He rose and lunged at the older man. Bruce grabbed him and pulled him back.

“You killed my Ma and Pa!” Clark screamed. 

***

Bruce struggled to hold his partner back, even though he would have cheerfully throttled Morgan himself. He managed to pull Clark away and push him against the wall of the cabin.

“Calm down,” he said.

“He killed my Ma and Pa,” his friend said, sounding dangerously close to tears.

“It wasn’t me!” the fair-haired outlaw said in protest. “It was all Lionel.”

“But I didn’t hear you say you tried to stop him either,” Bruce said, turning and glaring angrily at the other man. “You could have stopped him, but you didn’t. You and Lionel murdered two people in cold blood, all because Lionel couldn’t get what he wanted any other way except by force.”

Edge was silent, as Bruce knew he would be. There was no comeback from it and he knew it. Bruce could see it in his expression.

“Anything else we should know?” Bruce said.

“There was something on that farm,” Edge admitted. “I dunno what it was and I’ve never seen anything like it since. What I can tell you is it has something to do with the Kid.”

“Where is it now?” he asked, still keeping one hand on Clark, although his partner was much calmer. 

The other man shrugged. “Dunno. Lionel kept a trunk in the storehouse. If there’s anything, it’ll be there.” He rose from the table and looked at Clark. “I know it ain’t worth much, Kid, but I’m real sorry about your Ma and Pa. They were good folks.”

“Get out!” Clark hissed. “Stay the hell away from me.”

Edge looked at him steadily for a moment, then down at the waistband of Clark’s trousers. He frowned. 

“What’s that?”

Bruce glanced down and realised the badge the governor had given Clark had hooked on his waistband. The older man narrowed his eyes, reaching out a hand for it.

Bruce moved quickly to cover his friend and pulled out his gun.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. 

“Gonna turn me over, Bruce? You know what they’ll do to me.”

“It’s what you deserve!” Clark spat bitterly.

The older man’s blue eyes were coolly assessing.

“Yet here we still are!” Edge pointed out.

Bruce glanced once more at Clark. The old man had made a very good point. Clark could have grabbed Lionel’s former partner and taken him down the mountain to the city and be back in an hour. He wondered if his friend had perhaps forgotten his task in his pain and grief.

The sound of something tapping against the window had him glancing over. The storm which had been threatening for hours had finally hit and the wind had got up. A branch from the tree which was supposed to shelter them was tapping against the window. 

“Get out Morgan,” Bruce growled at the older man. 

He waited until he heard the door close behind the fair-haired man, then looked at Clark.

“I should take him in,” Clark said.

“Not tonight,” Bruce reminded him gently. “A storm’s blowing outside and even with your powers I’d rather you not be caught in it. Besides, it’s been a long night and all I want to do right now is sleep.”

Clark nodded. “We’ll check out the storehouse in the morning though, right?”

“Right,” Bruce smiled. 

The crisis was over. For the moment anyway, he thought. 

While the cabin was small, there were beds, of a fashion, in one corner of the room. The cots were narrow and uncomfortable but they were at least more comfortable than the floor or sleeping on rocky ground, although definitely not made for two. Bruce figured that Clark would need the reassurance, however and pulled him down to the cot, wrapping his arms around him. 

The fire was still burning merrily but Bruce had put a couple more logs on just so the fire would burn a little longer and keep him warm. Not that he really needed it with Clark sleeping next to him.

Next morning, Bruce woke to find Clark wasn’t beside him and the room was freezing cold. It seemed his partner had been up a while. He got up, seeing the bowl of clean water on the table and quickly washed his face. It was too cold to wash anything else and after three days without bathing he smelled a little ripe. He figured he could wash in the stream that flowed about a mile from the cabin.

He picked up his clothes and put them on over his flannels, then donned a heavy coat. As he opened the door an icy wind blew through the cabin, making him shiver. He went outside to search for his friend.

The property, which consisted of a small cabin, a sort of bunkhouse, a couple of lean-tos where they kept the horses and a storehouse, was set in a gully, with mountain ranges on either side. In winter, the wind would come down the gully from the top of the ranges and blow bitterly cold. 

Bruce remembered as a child being stuck inside the cabin, which was barely big enough for one adult and two children, being only two rooms. Most of the gang had slept in the bunkhouse, which had been built on when more joined them. There had been seasons when they had been at least twenty strong.

The door to the storehouse was open. Bruce walked over, peering into the darkness. He was startled by the sound of something scraping on the floor.

“Clark?”

Clark appeared in the middle of the room. 

“I think I found something,” he said.

“What are you doing out here so early?” Bruce asked, following him toward the back. “I thought we were going to check it out together?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Bruce supposed he could understand. After everything Morgan had revealed the night before, he couldn’t blame Clark for being upset. Still, they were partners, and he’d assumed Clark would have waited for him to wake up. 

He stood in the semi-darkness. There was an oil lamp burning which gave out a dim light, just enough for him to see what was going on.

Clark had pulled out what looked like a trunk. There was a large lock on it which had rusted, but Clark broke it easily by crushing it to dust in his hand. Bruce looked on as he opened it and began rummaging through the contents. There were several papers which looked important.

“Give me those,” Bruce said, intending to go through them later.

His partner handed them over, along with what looked to be some kind of book. Bruce flipped through the pages and saw Lionel’s scrawl. Journal, he thought.

Suddenly Clark gasped, picking up something which Bruce couldn’t see. 

“What is it?” he asked.

Clark opened his hand and showed it to him. It was a metal disc shaped like a hexagon, with strange symbols on one side.

“I’ve seen these before,” Bruce mused. 

Clark nodded. “In the cave.”

The mystery deepens, Bruce thought. He pulled Clark’s hand.

“Come on. We need to get some breakfast. I want to look at those papers.”

“What d’you think you’re gonna find?” Clark asked.

“Dunno, but it’s worth a look,” he replied, remembering how his younger partner couldn’t be bothered learning to read.

There were enough grits to make a half decent breakfast. As they ate, they discussed what to do next. 

“I wanna find Morgan and take him down the mountain,” Clark told him. “Perry’ll know what to do with him.”

Bruce nodded. There hadn’t been any sign of Morgan since Bruce had thrown him out the night before, but he assumed the older man had found shelter somewhere. It was just a question of tracking him.

In hindsight, tossing him out probably wasn’t the best idea, but Bruce had thought it was better to get Edge out of his partner’s sight before Clark did something they both would regret. The older outlaw apparently agreed with him. 

After breakfast, Clark went out to get some wood for the fire while Bruce began reading some the journal. Most of it was about Clark and his abilities. Lionel had begun testing the kid from a young age trying to figure out the scope of the boy’s powers and see how he could exploit them. 

It was obvious that he was not happy at Clark’s resistance to his ‘training’. When Clark refused to do something Lionel had asked him to do, he’d been taken out to the lean-to where they’d stored some of the wood and beaten. Bruce vaguely remembered that. Clark had been twelve. Lionel had given up trying and left Clark to his own devices. 

It was a good thing he had, Bruce thought. Clark was powerful. If his abilities were used in the wrong way, there was no telling what he could do. Bruce was suddenly glad that Clark was so stubborn and that he’d held on to some of the things his folks had taught him. 

The papers Lionel had kept hidden were a revelation. As Bruce read, he became angrier and angrier. 

Clark entered the cabin, dumping wood next to the fire. He must have seen Bruce’s expression as he came over.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s what’s in these papers,” Bruce told him.

Clark looked at them, but since he couldn’t read, they held little of value to him.

“What do they say?”

“It’s the reason Lionel took me from Gotham. He was going to use me to take my family’s business.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Lionel was planning on one final big haul, but he was killed before he could do it. Then he was going to take me to Gotham and reveal me as the missing heir to the Wayne fortune.”

“Why? What would that do?”

“I dunno, Clark, but there’s more to this. Like what happened to my father in the first place.”

“It sounds like Lionel wasn’t the one behind the murders,” Clark replied.

Bruce nodded. If Lionel wasn’t his father’s killer, then who was? Did that mean that they now controlled Gotham?

Moroni had to have the answers, he thought. 

He continued to peruse the journal and the documents but knew he wasn’t going to find any answers there. Clark went out after starting the fire to hunt for something to eat and came back with a wild boar. It would give them enough meat for two meals each and the rest could be made into a stew. Given the outside temperature, the meat would keep for a couple of days at least.

After they’d eaten, Clark went back out again, ostensibly to look for Morgan, but returned dejected. Bruce offered to go with him the next day, since it was growing dark, as it tended to do in the camp during the colder months. 

Once again, they slept together on the narrow bunk. Clark seemed to fall asleep almost immediately, which assured Bruce that, while he was still upset about what he had learned, at least he wasn’t out for Edge’s blood.

They headed out early the next morning, noting as they did so there had been an early frost, which was a little unusual for the time of year. 

Bruce’s breath misted as he spoke.

“If I know Morgan, he’ll have covered his tracks.”

“Guess so,” Clark replied.

“It’s not your fault, Clark. If anything, it’s mine. I told him to get out.”

“If you hadn’t, I’d have killed him.”

Bruce looked at his companion. “No, you wouldn’t. It ain’t in you to kill a man.”

“Ain’t so sure about that, Bruce. Especially after what he did to my Ma and Pa.”

“I know,” he agreed. “So let’s find him and hand him over to the marshal before you do something we’ll regret.”

They had reached a copse of trees near where Lionel had been killed two years earlier. The lawmen who had planned to ambush the gang had used the trees to hide themselves; not that it had done them any good. 

Bruce noticed a broken branch at about the height he would have estimated to be up to Edge’s shoulder. He nudged Clark, who glanced at it and nodded. Edge must be in the trees somewhere.

They continued the search quietly and cautiously, knowing Morgan could try to ambush them. Bruce could see Clark trying to focus and assumed he was either using his special vision or his super-hearing.

“Anything?” Bruce mouthed. Clark shook his head. 

They continued walking to the furthest edge of the trees. Bruce glanced down and saw what appeared to be a dark trail. He bent down to examine it.

“Blood,” he said out loud.

Clark gasped and took off running. Bruce called after him but his partner seemed intent on something ahead of them. Bruce could hear the trees rustling unnaturally.

“Bruce!” Clark called out.

Bruce ran in the direction of his friend’s voice. Clark appeared through the trees.

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

Clark pointed to something a few yards away. A body. Bruce ran toward it, bending down to turn it over. 

“Morgan,” he said.

The body was still intact which meant the animals that roamed the mountains hadn’t had time to get close. He looked up at Clark, who frowned at him.

“I don’t think he’s been dead that long. The blood’s still fresh.”

“So that means …”

“Whoever killed him is still here. Somewhere.”


	15. Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark encounters someone new and one of the gang turns up at the cabin.

Clark looked around uneasily. As much as he had hated Morgan for what had happened to his Ma and Pa, he had wanted to see justice done. He looked down at Morgan’s body, the old man’s sightless eyes seeming to stare up at him. Clark never really felt the cold but he shivered all the same, feeling an icy gust go right through him.

Lex, probably in an effort to scare him when he had been very young, had once told him about a legend of a town up north. A young slave had run away from a plantation down south early in the years of abolition. A priest had accused the slave of attacking a young white woman and the townsfolk had lynched the man without a trial. It had come to light later that it was the priest who had attacked the young woman.

It was said that the young slave’s spirit still haunted the town, seeking revenge on those who had wronged him. Many in the town had reported feeling what they had described as the ‘icy hand of death’ trying to grab them. 

That was the same feeling Clark had now as he reached over and closed Morgan’s eyes. 

Bruce patted his shoulder. They’d both seen enough death to last them several lifetimes. In their line of work, or rather, former line of work, it was inevitable. That didn’t make it any easier.

Clark lifted his head, hearing a rustling in the trees that didn’t sound like the wind. Bruce noticed his distraction.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, pulling his gun out of his holster in slow, deliberate movements. 

“Thought I heard something,” Clark replied in a low voice. “I’m going to check it out.”

“Be careful,” Bruce hissed. “Whoever did this is likely still out there.”

Clark nodded and quickly shifted into super speed, seeking out the source of the sound. 

He had to wonder why they hadn’t heard the gunshot if Morgan had only just been shot. Clark had no idea how long it had been since it had happened, and given how cold it was, there really was no way to tell. When he’d touched Morgan’s body, it was cold; maybe not icy cold, but at least cold enough for him to figure that the old man had been dead a while. 

Still, Bruce was certain that whoever had killed Morgan was still out there, and since Bruce was the more learned of the two of them, Clark thought he would know. 

He wondered if the shooter had been Lex, but then again, what reason would Lex have had to have gone after Morgan, since it was them he had the grudge against. Edge hadn’t even been big enough in their gang to be considered the leader. Plus he was old, and judging from the way the old man had shuffled about the other night, he was sick as well. He’d been no threat. 

Unless it had been meant as a warning. Then again, even if Lex had managed to escape jail, how would he have known where they were going? Not only that, Clark thought, but given the storm a few days ago and the way the weather had turned, would he really have made it all the way here?

The more he thought about it, the more Clark was convinced someone else had been the shooter. 

That was even less comforting. From what Clark could tell, Morgan had been shot once, so whoever had done it had to be a crack shot. There were only a few men that he knew of who were that good with a gun. Lex was good, but he wasn’t a crack shot. 

A snap had him looking around, squinting as he used his special vision to try to see through the trees. The forest was much denser here and with the way the wind was whipping around him, blowing cold particles in the air, visibility was made even more difficult. 

Clark stopped moving for a second, hoping he might be able to hear something more and figure out if there really was someone else besides him. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds slowly filter out until all he heard was the sound of hitched breathing, as if the person was trying not to give themselves away. 

He began walking in the direction of the sound, his gaze locked in that same spot. He thought he saw something through the trees. A hint of colour in an otherwise drab scene. Clark sped up, trying to follow, but either they were different, like him, or they were just too good at dodging him. 

He stopped moving once again and listened. There was definitely someone moving through the trees. From the sounds of snapping twigs, it sounded like they didn’t know the woods very well, or else they would have been a whole lot quieter.

A harsh snapping sound attracted his attention. Clark caught a glimpse of something coloured red. Just as he had made up his mind to run after them, he heard a yell, either of pain or fright. He focused his vision, eyes widening as he realised whoever it was had fallen off the edge of the cliff overlooking Whistler’s Canyon, so named because he and some of the other boys in the gang, when they had been younger, had learned how to track each other in the canyon by whistling. Clark, with his special hearing, had been the best at it as he could filter through the sounds of the whistles echoing off the canyon walls. 

He sped to the edge and looked down. Sure enough, someone was hanging off the edge. Clark saw it was a young man, maybe about a year or two younger than Clark, with dark blond hair. He was hanging on to an old tree root about a foot down, but just barely. He looked up when Clark got down on his stomach and looked over the edge, reaching out with one hand.

“You gonna help me or what,” he said, his accent indiscernible. Despite his predicament, he was rather mouthy. Clark was tempted to just let the kid try and get out of it himself, but he could see the kid was cold; he was shivering and his lips were turning blue. 

“Grab my hand,” he said, reaching down to make a grab for the boy.

“I’ll fall,” the kid replied. 

“No you won’t. I’ll catch you before that happens.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Just do it,” Clark practically growled. “I don’t got all day.”

The boy looked uncertain, slowly lifting one hand from the root. Suddenly the root cracked, the boy’s weight causing it to break. Clark reached down and grabbed the kid’s hand before he could fall, using his own strength to keep him from slipping. He pulled the kid up and back over before rolling over and away from the edge.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, once the kid had sufficiently recovered. 

“Was just out wandering,” the kid replied.

Clark snorted and shook his head. “Ain’t nobody wanders out here. Not with mountain lions and such.”

“You are,” the young man pointed out.

“Yeah, but I got a gun,” he said, not about to tell someone he didn’t even know about his strange abilities, or that a gun wasn’t even necessary. 

As a child he had run across a mountain lion, which clearly did not like anyone else in its territory. It got a big surprise when it tried to attack Clark, who had been able to throw it off without any effort, or even a scratch.

He looked again at the boy. “What do you got?”

“Nothin’.”

“Seriously, what were you doing out here?”

“Ran away. What’s it to you?”

“Figure you’d join a gang or something?”

“Maybe. Why? You know somebody?”

“Don’t matter. You’re just a kid.”

“I ain’t a kid,” the boy said, scowling. “I can handle a gun, ‘swell as anyone.”

“Yeah? So why ain’t you carrying one?”

Clark had quickly realised the boy couldn’t have been the shooter, since he had no gun. There was also the fact that he was short in stature and slightly built. He probably didn’t have the strength to handle a gun, let alone shoot one, Clark surmised.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The kid tilted his head and sniffed as if he smelled something bad.

“What’s it to ya?”

“Well, my name’s Clark.”

The boy shrugged. Clark snorted. 

“Ya know, I coulda just left you there.”

His new companion considered that for a moment. “Bart,” he said. “Just Bart.” He eyed Clark warily. “You an outlaw or somethin’?”

Clark shrugged. “Or something.” He looked back at the kid. Bart was clearly trying to pretend he was fine, but he was fidgeting, shifting from one foot to the other, his gaze in all directions as if he was looking for something. Or someone.

“You see something, Bart?”

“No,” Bart answered quickly. A little too quickly. 

Clark decided to drop it and head back to the clearing where he’d left Bruce. No doubt his partner would be wondering what was going on.

“C’mon,” he told Bart. 

He began walking back, not looking to see if Bart was keeping up. The kid was following him in silence, leaving Clark to his thoughts. 

Clark had to wonder what the kid was running away from and why he had really decided to run this far. The mountains were no place for a kid, especially one like Bart, unless they were already part of a gang, like Clark had been. 

He also wondered what Bart was so afraid of. He was sure the kid had seen or heard something, since he didn’t seem to be afraid of Clark. The question was, who? Had he seen who had killed Morgan?

By the time he got back to the clearing a few minutes later, he could see that Morgan’s body had been dragged away from the fresh marks on the ground. He looked around for his partner. It was unlikely Bruce would be burying the body, since the ground was too cold and hard to dig. He figured his friend would have just thrown the body into the ravine or something.

As he considered what to do, he heard footsteps behind him and whirled, pulling his gun from his holster. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was Bruce. 

“Find anything?” Bruce asked.

Clark shook his head, then looked at Bart, who was just standing at the edge of the clearing, clearly uncertain.

“Uh, this is Bart.” Bruce looked at him steadily for a moment, then studied Bart, obviously not too concerned, noting the lack of a gun in his belt.

“Uh-huh. Picking up strays, Clark?”

Clark shrugged and smiled at his partner. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We should head back to the cabin and get warm,” Bruce advised. Clark nodded, realising his partner was cold, as was Bart, whose clothes weren’t suited to the colder temperatures of the mountains. 

He followed behind as Bruce led the way, still listening for any sounds that someone else might be following. He felt uneasy, like the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Maybe it was that story of Lex’s, but maybe it was something else. 

They made it back to the cabin a short time later, only to find someone else was there. Clark bit his lip as he stared at the newcomer.

“Hello Van,” Bruce said.

The brunet turned from where he was making coffee with acorn grounds and smiled slyly at them.

“Hello Bruce.” He nodded his head at Clark. “Clark.”

“Van,” Clark said shortly. 

He and Van McNulty had never really got along. Van’s father had been killed in the war. His mother had died not long after from some kind of illness which he’d never talked about. A year older than Clark, he’d joined the gang two years earlier. Lex had run into him after Van had robbed a stagecoach, only to have been pursued by a marshal. Clark had wondered why Lex, of all people, would have offered to help the younger man, since it seemed uncharacteristic. 

Van was completely loyal to Lex. He was also a killer, having shot a marshal and killed a woman a couple of towns away from Metropolis. Clark suspected Van had raped the woman as well, from the way the other man had boasted about his ‘conquest’. 

Bruce knew how he felt about Van but did his best to act as a buffer between them, so Clark often followed his partner’s lead. He watched warily as Bruce sat down, talking to Van as if nothing was wrong.

Bart, meanwhile, was standing as far away from the other man as he could get. Clark studied him for a moment, then looked at Van, who was glaring at the kid. He suddenly had the feeling he knew the reason for the hostility between the two. 

Van was the one who had killed Morgan. 

***

Bruce watched Van warily, glancing now and again at his partner to make sure he wasn’t going to do something stupid, like attack the other man. He knew how Clark felt about the outlaw, whom Bruce had often thought was one of Lex’s stooges. 

A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked over toward the kid, Bart. The boy looked uneasy, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly wishing he was anywhere but here. The problem was it was far too cold for anyone out there, other than Clark, and it made more sense to stay indoors. 

“Bart, why don’t you sit down,” Bruce said, in a tone that Clark would recognise as less of a suggestion and more of an order.

“I’m good,” the boy replied. 

“No use going back out there, kid,” Clark said. “You’ll freeze before you could move.”

“I can move fast enough.”

Bruce went to see if some of the meat they’d eaten the night before was any good and stoked the fire, intending to reheat the food. Bart eyed the pan with what was clearly hunger. The kid was skinny enough that Bruce figured he hadn’t eaten in days. 

“Sure look like you can use some victuals though,” he told the boy.

“What’s that?” Bart asked, still eyeing the pan.

“Boar. Was figuring I could make a stew out of it.”

“Oh. You shoot that?”

“Well how else did ya think they would get a boar?” Van asked. “Chase it until it dropped dead?”

“Van,” Bruce said warningly. “Leave the kid alone. He ain’t done nothing to you.”

“Just tryin’ to get a rise out of ‘im.”

“Van, this ain’t got nothing to do with you. Go back to your little corner.”

Van glared at him, his eyes almost black. Bruce was taken aback at the murderous look in the other man’s gaze. Bruce continued to stare him down, refusing to show any reaction, knowing the other man would consider it a weakness. 

Van snickered and shook his head. He sat in the corner, feet up on the bed they’d used the night before. Bruce watched him take out a large knife, then a small object from his pocket, before starting to whittle something with the knife. 

Clark glanced at him, then at Bart, who looked terrified. Something was going on and Bruce was sure Clark knew, or thought he did. He stared at his partner, who shook his head slightly. 

As much as Bruce wanted to talk to Clark, he didn’t want to leave Bart alone in the room with just Van for company. It hadn’t been so long ago that Van had almost faced the gallows for the murder of a girl just two towns over from the city. He was second only to Lex for the reward for his capture. 

“Come on, Bart,” he said, lowering his tone to make it sound a little kinder. “Sit down and we’ll fix something to eat.”

Clark smiled at the kid, who bit his lip, looking back at Clark with a dubious expression. There seemed to be some kind of unspoken communication between the two, then Bart nodded and sat down at the rickety table. 

Clark sat down beside him, putting himself between Van and the kid. Bruce frowned at his partner, but said nothing, wondering what had happened between them to bring out his friend’s protective instincts. 

Bruce busied himself making the meal. He was not a great cook, but it would at least be edible, he thought as he served it up in the bowls. There was still some cornbread left and he served that with it. 

Van had dropped whatever he’d been carving and looked as if he was sleeping, his hat over his face as he leaned back in the chair. Bruce wasn’t fooled for a second, seeing the man’s body wasn’t relaxed enough for him to be sleeping. Still, he made a show of pretending to wake the other man up, telling him to get the food before it got cold. 

The rest of the day passed in relative peace. Bruce still wondered who could have killed Morgan. As much as he had hated the man, he didn’t think Morgan had deserved to die the way he had. 

He’d been thinking about what had happened since Clark had left him with the body. Morgan had been shot, but they hadn’t heard a gun go off. Bruce had assumed that the old outlaw had only just been shot, as there hadn’t been any sign of animals picking at the body. Then again, it had been bitterly cold the night before. Even the animals would have had more sense than to come out so early when it was that cold. 

Then there was Bart’s behaviour. He’d clearly been wandering in the woods for a while, so he could have heard something or seen something. The question was, what exactly had he seen? Did Van have something to do with it?

The problem with that was that Van had actually seemed to like the old man. When he’d first joined the gang, Morgan had taken him under his wing, teaching him everything he knew. 

Clark and Bart were talking in low voices as Bruce cleared things away and took out the papers Lionel had left. Van tried to look at them over his shoulder, but Bruce turned away from him, making sure the other man couldn’t see what they were. He wasn’t sure how well Van could read, if he could at all, but he wasn’t taking any chances. 

He heard snippets of the conversation between his partner and the kid; enough to guess that Bart was a runaway from a home for orphans. It seemed that the woman who ran the place had no motherly instincts at all and forced the kids to work, either for a local business owner, or in the big house where they lived. Bart had been sent to work at what he soon realised was a whorehouse. 

Bruce smiled to himself as he listened to Clark gently coaxing the information out of the boy. He’d always been good at that. Even when they’d been robbing trains, he’d disarmed them with a shy smile and a gentle tone so they would practically hand him the money. Clark had never really been cut out for this life, Bruce thought. 

Not for the first time, he wished there was something he could have done so that Clark could have had his Ma and Pa back. When Bruce was a child, he had spent many nights thinking up ways things could have been different with his own mother and father. Think how different things could have been for Clark, his inner voice told him. Maybe you and he would have never met. 

Most likely, Bruce thought, he would have been dead if he hadn’t met Clark. There had been so many times when Clark had saved his life. The night they’d ended up seeking shelter in a cave; the day Bruce had inadvertently disturbed a rattlesnake. All the times Lex had sent them out on dangerous missions, making Bruce wonder if Lex had done it deliberately to get rid of them. 

It had darkened in the cabin while he had been deep in thought. He heard the creak of Van’s chair as he stood up.

“I’m gonna go find a bunk somewhere,” Van said.

Bruce watched him walk out the door, glad to see the back of him. 

“Bart, why don’t you bunk here,” Clark suggested quietly.

The boy glanced at Bruce, then at the beds, biting his lip dubiously. 

“Uh, there’s not enough room.”

“Sure there is,” Clark said. “Bruce and me … we, um, share.”

“It’s better that way,” Bruce told the kid. “Warmer.” He wasn’t sure what the boy thought about two men sleeping together but he didn’t want to make Bart uncomfortable.

“Oh. Yeah, guess that’s okay.”

They bunked down for the night, but Bruce couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He lay awake, long after Clark began lightly snoring, as did Bart. 

He managed to doze off a while later, but was woken again by a creaking sound. Bruce reached underneath the bed for his holster, slowly taking out his gun. There was another creak and he saw a silhouette in what passed for moonlight. The person was holding what looked like a knife with a long blade. 

Van, he thought.

He sat up, cocking his gun. The click of the hammer was unmistakable. Van froze, his head turning toward Bruce.

“You better have a good reason for wandering in here in the middle of the night, Van,” Bruce growled.

The sound woke both Bart and Clark up.

“Wha …?”

Van tried to back away, but Bruce moved quickly, standing up, holding his gun on the other man. Clark got up from the bed and went to find a lamp. Bruce had no doubt he lit the lamp using whatever gave him the ability to light fires with his eyes.

“You gonna answer me Van?” Bruce growled.

Van looked at him defiantly, his gaze shifting to Bart, who was sitting up in the bed, looking alarmed. Bruce followed the gaze and studied the other man.

“No, wait, let me answer that for you. You shot Morgan, thinking we would never finger you for it.”

Van shook his head. “It was meant to be you. It was dark when I saw him wandering around near the cabin. I knew you two would come up here eventually.” His face darkened. “It was meant to be you.”

“So what happened? You find out it was Morgan and then what?”

“I decided to wait until you were alone, but you’re never alone. You and Clark, you’re always together. Then that kid … saw me. Guess he must have seen me lying in wait for you.”

Bart nodded. “I saw you. You were going to shoot Bruce.”

Van glared at him and Bart shrank in fear.

“So you thought you’d try again tonight?” Bruce said. “Why?”

“Because you betrayed Lex. He wanted you to pay. Since he couldn’t kill Clark, he figured your death would finish him anyway.”

Clark growled in anger. Bruce grabbed him before he could rush Van.

“Clark, don’t. We’ll tie him up and you can take him down to the city tomorrow, leave him with the marshal.”

“This ain’t over, Bruce,” Van said. “Lex has a plan.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Bruce told him dryly. “Tell the truth I’m looking forward to making that man pay for everything he’s done. And he will. Mark my words.”


	16. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get some unwelcome news. The boys ponder the situation.

Bruce looked at him.

“Clark, go see if you can find some rope so we can tie him up.”

Clark nodded, glancing uneasily at Van, who smirked at him, not fazed in the slightest by the gun in his face. He left the room, moving quickly to the storeroom, having seen some rope when they were there earlier. 

He glanced back, using his vision to check the cabin, but so far Bruce seemed to be able to hold the other outlaw at bay. Bart was frozen in his bunk, clearly afraid. There was little Clark could do about that. 

He looked around the storeroom and quickly found the rope, taking it back to the cabin. Together, he and Bruce wrapped the rope around Van’s wrists, securing them behind his back, cutting it before securing his ankles. The other man continued to glare at them from his awkward position. Clark didn’t care if it was uncomfortable.

“This changes nothing,” he said. 

Clark rolled his eyes at him.

“Yeah, yeah. You know what? I’m sick of the sound of your voice.” He grabbed a rag and stuffed it in the man’s mouth, then used another rag to keep the gag in place. 

Bruce pulled him aside. “We’ll need to take it in turns to guard him,” he said quietly. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Clark replied. “You get some sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you ain’t,” he replied. He could see from his friend’s face that he’d barely slept, yet Clark had managed to sleep thinking everything was fine. As much as he’d suspected Van had been Morgan’s killer, he’d never thought the man would have the guts to sneak back in and try to kill Bruce while they were sleeping. “Go back to bed.”

Bruce looked as if he was going to argue, but Clark stopped him with a look. His partner nodded and went back to the bunk, assuring Bart everything was fine now. The runaway looked dubious, but settled down.

Clark grabbed a chair and sat down, facing the back of it. He picked up his gun and began fiddling with the cylinder, spinning it. Van watched him, eyes narrowed, but made no obvious attempt to escape. 

Still, Clark watched him carefully, not trusting the other man. Van was one of the few members of the gang who pretended to be less intelligent than the likes of Lex, but Clark wasn’t fooled. He figured it was one of the reasons Lex had basically taken the other man under his wing. There were two kinds of people Lex liked - those who were just as smart as him and those he could manipulate. 

While he didn’t need a lot of sleep, Clark found himself getting drowsy as the night wore on. His eyes drooped and he had to force himself to stay awake as the second hour of watching the prisoner passed. 

“Clark!”

Bruce’s shout was like a snap of the fingers, instantly bringing him back to alertness. Van had somehow managed to get the ropes off his wrists and was trying to make a break for it out the door. Clark got up quickly and used his speed to stop the other man before he even reached halfway.

“Going somewhere?” Clark growled.

Van slashed through the air, clearly trying to stab him and exclaimed in shock and anger as the blade of the knife shattered.

“What the …”

Fortunately for them, Van had never known the full extent of Clark’s abilities. It seemed that Lex, and Lionel before him, had chosen not to share that with the younger members of the gang. Clark had to wonder if that also meant Van didn’t know about the green rock.

Clark swatted him as if he were a fly. With a sharp cry, Van hit the wall at the far end and fell on his backside. Stunned, he looked up at them with glazed eyes, clearly wondering what had just happened. 

Clark quickly had him secured again, confident that this time the man would not be going anywhere. As he finished tying the last knot, he heard Bruce talking in a low voice to Bart.

“Take it easy, kid,” he said. 

“But … but … what was that?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

Clark got up and approached them. 

“Bart, you all right?”

The teen stared at him, opening and closing his mouth, reminding Clark of a fish gasping for oxygen. 

“What … what was that?” he repeated.

“What was what?”

“You threw him like he was nothing. And you … you …” His face creased in a frown. “I thought I was the only one.”

“Only one what?” Bruce asked.

Bart shook his head. “You’re … you’re like me. Well, not like me, exactly. I mean, you’re like really strong and really fast.”

“Bart, what do you mean, I’m like you?”

“I’ll show you,” the kid said. In the blink of an eye, he moved from the bunk to the door and back again. Except for a subtle change in his position it looked like he hadn’t moved, yet Clark had been able to see the whole thing. 

“Show me what?” Bruce asked.

“Bruce, he can move like I can,” Clark said. He looked again at Bart. “How?”

“I dunno. That’s why I … that’s kind of why I ran away. I changed, and my folks, they … they got scared. Said they didn’t want no freak for a son.”

Clark felt sympathy for the boy.

“That’s too bad,” he said. 

“I figured if a gang wouldn’t let me join, I’d go find a freak show or somethin’.”

“Joining a gang ain’t the answer, kid,” Bruce said kindly. 

“You did,” Bart pointed out. They’d told him a little of their history.

“Yeah, but we didn’t know any better,” Clark told him. 

Bart bit his lip, then nodded. He looked over at Van. 

“What’ re you gonna do with him?”

“Take him into town, turn him in. Van’s got a price on his head.”

“Almost as big as Lex’s,” Clark told him. 

“Lex? You worked with that guy?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’s in jail now.”

“Uh, not what I heard. I was in the city before I ran up here. There was some kind of jailbreak.”

Clark heard the sound of laughter and turned to look at Van. The other man smirked at him.

“You’re dead,” he said. “When Lefty finds you, he’s gonna kill you dead.”

Bruce glared at him. “Well, that ain’t gonna matter to you, now is it, Van?” He looked at Clark. “Know what? I changed my mind. We ain’t gonna wait this out. You take him down to the city now. Find Marshal White and tell him you got a special delivery.”

Bart stared at him.

“It’s gotta be freezing out there. How are you gonna get to town and back?”

Clark smiled at him. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m fast enough. And maybe it’ll make Van shut the heck up.”

Van looked at him, for the first time appearing disconcerted. Clark quickly pulled on some warmer clothes, not that he needed them, and went over to the other man.

“Don’t you do it, Kent! Don’t you fuckin’ dare!”

Bruce just smirked. “I’d shut my yap if I were you, McNulty.”

Clark picked the other man up and slung him over his shoulder as if he were a sack. A heavy sack, but a sack nonetheless, then stomped over to the door, looking at Bruce, who just grinned back. 

Van screamed all the way down to the city. Clark was at the jailhouse in a matter of minutes. Before they’d left the city a few days earlier, Marshal White had mentioned he would have one of his men stay at the sheriff’s station in case they needed anything and Clark hoped the marshal would still be there.

By the time he put the other outlaw down, the man’s lips were chapped and blue from the cold. Clark dumped him on the doorstep of the building, making sure Van couldn’t use anything to get loose. 

“Cheer up,” he said as the bound man looked up at him sullenly. “Sheriff’ll have a nice warm jail for you.”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you, Kent,” Van retorted, his teeth chattering.

“What was that?” Clark asked. “Couldn’t tell what you were saying with your teeth chattering and all.”

The other man just glared at him with what seemed to be murderous hatred. Clark rapped on the door of the jailhouse and waited, ignoring the prisoner. When there was no answer, he rapped on the door again. He heard the sound of shuffling footsteps.

“All righ’ all righ’ keep your shirt on.”

The door opened and a man wearing nothing but flannels came out. Clark recognised him as one of Perry’s deputies, relieved to know he wouldn’t have to explain himself to the sheriff, since he figured not all lawmen would know who they were working for.

“Whaddya want?” he asked, staring at Clark, his eyes crusted with sleep. It took a little time for him to recognise Clark, but he nodded.

Clark stepped aside to reveal the prisoner. The man’s eyes widened as he realised who it was.

“Damn, well if that don’t beat all. C’mon in, boy.”

“Can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “But you put him somewhere nice and safe, marshal.”

The man grinned, showing teeth yellow and rotten from chewing tobacco. He moved forward, grabbing Van’s arm and pulling him up. The outlaw grimaced as the man’s rank breath hit his senses.

“Sure will.”

“Tell Marshal White, Morgan Edge is dead.” He nodded at Van. “He shot him. Was aimin’ for someone else.”

The other man returned the nod. “Should know, Lefty …”

“We know,” Clark replied. “That’s why I have to get back. Ain’t leaving my partner alone. Not with Lefty on the loose again.”

“Yeah, hear that.” He dragged Van inside and nodded at Clark before closing the door.

Clark raced back up to the cabin. Day was just breaking and he could see smoke coming from the chimney. He started back for the door, only to hesitate. Bruce was forever telling him not to jump in head first without checking out the situation. 

He stood back, looking through the wall and controlling the vision so he could see it was just Bruce and Bart. The younger man was shivering, rubbing his arms to keep warm, while Bruce was putting some more wood on the fire to build up the flames. 

He considered the situation. Lex had escaped, but where he was would depend on how long it had been since his escape. Clark had to assume it had been at least a couple days, maybe three. 

Van had implied Lex had given him orders to kill Bruce. Which meant one of two things, Clark thought. Either Van had been at the jail where Lex was being held, or Lex had already escaped by the time Van saw him. 

Either way, it meant Lex was likely not far behind. Clark was sure if it was the latter, Lex had probably sent Van on ahead, knowing he couldn’t fight them alone.

If Clark was right, then his partner was in danger!

***

Bruce had got up shortly after Clark had left, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to get any more sleep. Bart had gone back to sleep for a short while, getting up only when the day started to break. It appeared to be gloomy weather outside. Bruce had long ago learned how to study the clouds and decided the shape and colour of the gathering clouds meant snow was on the way. 

He went out to cut some wood for the fire and by the time he was done, Bart was up and shivering, rubbing up and down his arms as if that would help him get warm. Bruce began putting the newly cut logs on the fire so the boy could warm up.

“When will Clark get back?” Bart asked.

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know. Soon, I guess.”

The youth looked at him for a long moment, but didn’t comment. He wrapped his arms around his body as he sat by the fire, staring into the flames.

“You know, you don’t act like …”

“Like what?”

“Like that guy. Van.”

“We’re not. Clark’s a good kid. He’s my best friend. My only friend, really.”

Bart seemed to be deep in thought as Bruce set about making coffee and finding some grits to make breakfast.

“What happened to you?”

Bruce frowned at him.

“What do you mean?”

“How did you get here?”

There were times when Bruce had often wondered that himself. Anyone with a modicum of intelligence would hardly choose this kind of life, he thought. 

It felt to him that both he and Clark had been manipulated in many ways. Their choices in life had been taken away from them, just as their folks had. Lionel had used their predicaments for reasons of his own. While Lionel had stated in the papers Bruce had found that he had intended to use Bruce to take over Thomas Wayne’s holdings, how it had occurred in the first place remained a mystery. 

Just as Bruce had finished making the breakfast, the cabin door opened and Clark came in. Bruce smiled at him.

“Go okay?” he asked.

Clark nodded. He glanced at Bart.

“Bart, when did you say you were in the city?”

“Yesterday,” the youth replied. “Why?”

“When they were talking about the jailbreak, did you hear when it happened?”

Bruce looked at him. “What’s going on, Clark?”

“The marshal’s deputy told me. Lex was part of the jailbreak. Way I figure it, he must have escaped a couple days after we left Metropolis but stayed behind to gather some of the men and sent Van on ahead. He wants revenge, Bruce. I think he sent Van to kill you, so when he came after me …”

“I wouldn’t be there to keep you safe.”

Clark nodded. Bruce looked over at Bart, who looked pale. Bruce looked back at his partner.

“How long you think we have?” he asked.

Clark shrugged. “A few hours. Snowstorm’s coming, which might slow ‘em down a bit, but you know Lex. Once he gets something into his head, he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

Bruce bit his lip. There was another possibility. Lex could go after the girls. He’d already used Lois and Chloe against them once. He spoke his thoughts aloud, but Clark shook his head.

“He knows we’re here, Bruce. Why else would he have sent Van?”

“Maybe to make sure,” Bruce replied. “I just have a feeling, that’s all.”

“Where do the girls live?” Bart asked.

“They have a ranch. It belonged to Chloe’s father, but Lex’s men killed him and kidnapped the girls.”

“It’s a days’ ride from the city,” Clark told him.

Bruce looked at the boy, wondering what he had in mind. Even if he could give the kid directions, he doubted Bart would be able to find the property.

The boy shook his head.

“Naw, I was sort of thinking I could go down to town, scout a few things out. Maybe I can find out where he went from some of the gangs there.” He smirked. “I mean, I’m kinda … I don’t stand out much and I bet they wouldn’t know who I was.”

“How would you know where to find them?” Clark asked, looking curiously.

“I was in the city a couple days. Stole some stuff so I could get something to eat.”

Bart went on to explain that he had taken what he had stolen and sold it to a shop owner who had clearly realised Bart hadn’t come by the items honestly, but still looked the other way. At the time, the boy felt he had been cheated, and had watched the shopkeeper meeting with a known outlaw. Neither one of them had paid him any attention.

Bruce listened, understanding what Bart meant. The kid was scrawny and looked young enough that most of the outlaws and gunslingers that still hung around the city’s streets would barely notice him. 

As much as Bruce liked the idea, he thought it would be too dangerous. He shook his head.

“I don’t want you getting hurt,” he said.

Bart scowled at him. “I’m not a kid. And I can run pretty fast.”

Clark nodded in agreement. “It could work Bruce.” He smiled at Bart. “And it’s better than waiting here to see if Lex shows up, especially if your instincts tell you he’s gone after the girls.”

They had a point. Bruce chewed on his lower lip, then nodded.

“All right,” he said. “You go, but be back here before the storm hits, you hear me? No matter what you hear, or not.”

He didn’t want to voice his own fears. Given that the ranch was only a day’s ride from the city, Lex could have already been and gone. Then again, if he had spent some time gathering the men together, that would have delayed him by a couple days at least.

As Bart left, Bruce discussed the situation with Clark, who reminded him that he’d left the two girls with Lois’ sister. Being that Lucy lived two towns over, it would be two or maybe three days’ travelling with a wagon. Even if Lex had managed to beat them to the ranch, would he really just hang around waiting for their return? Lex had never been a patient man. 

Still, Bruce knew that if Lex wanted revenge on both him and Clark, the girls would make the perfect targets. While they could take care of themselves, at least against one or two men, they wouldn’t be able to handle an entire gang.

Knowing there was little they could do but wait until Bart returned, they continued talking. Bruce still wanted to find Moroni, but this was more important. 

Clark sighed.

“What are we gonna do when we do find Lex?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Lex is gonna want to kill us. Both of us. I mean, are we just gonna …”

“What?”

Bruce had a feeling he knew what Clark was saying, or trying to say. They might not have a choice, Bruce thought. They might have to kill Lex. Bruce had never killed a man and didn’t really want to, but he couldn’t face the thought that Lex might kill the girls, or heaven forbid, Clark.

The door slammed on its hinges and Bart ran in, sounding breathless. His eyes were wide and frightened.

“You were right. Heard one of them gunslingers talking about some guy named Lefty getting together some kind of posse. Said they were headed to some place called Sullivan.”

Clark looked at Bruce, his mouth half open in a silent gasp.

“That’s the ranch,” he said.

Bruce strode over to the table where he’d put their gear and handed Clark his gun.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“What’re you gonna do?” Bart asked.

“We’re gonna hunt down a killer,” Bruce replied.


	17. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys return to Metropolis to begin the hunt for Lex. Clark worries, Bruce has suspicions and someone unexpected joins the hunt.

Clark told Bart to meet them in town at the Metropolis Hotel and the kid left a few seconds later. There was no guarantee the governor or any of the marshals were still there but he figured they still owed the marshal and the governor at least needed to know what was about to happen. 

Bruce had packed up what he could and Clark wrapped his arms around him. It wouldn’t be easy going. The storm front had already drifted their way and it would be snowing before long. They had to go now or they would be stuck. Clark was fast, but snow still slowed him down. 

His partner nodded at him. “It’s all right.” 

He tried to sound reassuring but Clark knew Bruce was uneasy. He’d never really liked travelling at speed, preferring stealth, and it was worse when they were facing a storm as they were now. 

“Hold on tight,” he said. 

Nodding, Bruce clutched Clark’s shirt. Clark tightened his hold on his partner and sped out the door, ducking his head at the cold wind. It was blowing a howling gale already, directly into his face. While Clark couldn’t feel the cold, he was more concerned about Bruce copping most of it. 

As he reached the bottom of the mountain range, the wind had picked up even more, blowing down from the top of the ranges. Clark carried on despite his friend’s obvious discomfort, knowing once they got into the city it would be more sheltered. 

By the time he reached the city, a few minutes later, he could see Bruce was shivering. Clark’s own body temperature was relatively above what was normal for humans but it clearly wasn’t sufficient to keep his friend from freezing.

“Bruce?”

Teeth chattering, Bruce shook his head.

“I’m all right. Or I w-w-will be when I get someplace warm.”

“The hotel’s not far from here,” Clark said. “Probably about a mile. I could run, or …”

“I doubt I’ll get warmer any faster if we walk, Clark.”

He nodded. “All right. Hang on.”

He wrapped his arms around Bruce once again and sped in the direction of the hotel, stopping a few yards away. It was still fairly early in the morning, although not so early there weren’t people out in the street who might be able to see Clark using his speed. Common sense told him to stop out of sight of the hotel and walk the rest of the way. 

They separated. Bruce grabbed his hat and fit it back on his head and began walking along the street as nonchalant as you please. Only Clark was ever able to see his friend in a vulnerable state. Bruce could have been an actor in a play, he was so convincing.

“Morning ma’am,” Bruce said, tipping his hat to a young lady passing by. 

She looked at him and smiled, giving a polite nod in return. A man walking in the same direction glanced at Bruce, looking a little uneasy when he spotted Bruce’s gun in his holster, but didn’t comment. Clark shot him a look and he quickened his pace. 

A marshal was standing in the lounging area of the hotel when they walked in. He frowned at them. 

“Got someone here who says he’s a friend of yours.”

Bart stood up from a chair. Another marshal had been standing guard, glaring at the kid. 

“Yes, he is a friend,” Bruce replied. The two men relaxed their guard. “Marshal White around?”

Clark frowned at his friend, reminding him the marshal had gone to Wichita, although it was possible he’d returned to Metropolis when Lex had escaped jail. The marshal nodded his agreement.

“He’s gone chasing Lefty.”

“What about the governor?”

The first marshal glanced up the stairs. 

“He should be down any minute,” he said.

“Good. We’re going after Lex.”

“Figured you’d be long gone, all the way to Dodge,” the marshal replied.

“Not since we heard Lex escaped,” Clark told him.

“That is something I have come to expect from these two gentlemen,” the governor said, moving at an unhurried pace down the stairs. “It’s one of the many reasons I chose them for this assignment.”

Bruce took off his hat, looking respectfully at the governor.

“Governor Gordon, sir.”

The older man waved his hand. 

“No need to stand on ceremony, son. I’m assuming the two of you … apologies, three of you,” he said as Bart made a sound drawing the older man’s attention to him, “are here because you wish to pursue Luthor.”

“Yes sir,” Bruce replied. “We are only deputy marshals, Governor, but we wondered what actions you wish us to take.”

“Actions?” Clark asked, frowning at his partner. “Are you suggesting …”

He didn’t want to voice it. He knew what Bruce was going to say. If Lex was going to go after the girls, it was more than likely he would be prepared to commit murder to get revenge on them, especially Clark. 

Bruce pulled him aside. 

“Clark, I know how you feel about this, but if it comes down to a gunfight, we may have to kill Lex. You know he’d do the same to us.”

“It’s still wrong,” Clark replied, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the thought of having to kill the other man. He did realise that Lex was setting a trap for them by gathering the posse and he would very likely use whatever means he had available to kill them both, but Clark wasn’t a murderer. 

“I do understand how you feel, son,” Governor Gordon interjected kindly, “but let me ask you this. How different is it if you and young Bruce kill Luthor in self-defence than him facing the hangman’s noose? Either way, justice is done.”

“I can’t kill him,” Clark argued. “I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Bruce replied. “I will. Or die trying, because if he kills you, then he might as well kill me too.”

Clark swallowed. It was the closest Bruce would ever come to admitting his feelings for him. He nodded, biting his lip. 

Gordon smiled. “Don’t let me keep you boys. Marshal White and his men are pursuing a lead on Luthor, but I imagine you would have a head start on that.”

“Yes sir. He’s headed for the Sullivan ranch,” Bart replied, his expression showing he was in awe of the man in front of him. 

The governor raised an eyebrow. 

“Indeed?” He nodded at one of the other marshals. “Think you can help these boys?”

“If it’s all the same, sir, we can make our own way to the ranch.”

“And how do you expect to beat Luthor?” the marshal enquired.

Gordon put a hand on the man’s shoulder. From what he said next, Clark was fairly certain the man knew they were ‘different’. How much he knew was something Clark didn’t dare ask. 

“Some things are better left unsaid between friends, dear fellow.” He nodded at them. “Then I suggest you take your leave, boys. Good luck,” he added. 

With a final nod, Bruce turned and left the saloon. Bart followed behind. Clark held back for a moment, looking at the governor.

“Something on your mind, son?”

“I … no, I …”

Gordon looked at him kindly.

“I know this bothers you. I also know if there is another way, you will find it.”

“It’s just, my folks, they wouldn’t have wanted this for me.”

“I am sure that your mother and father would understand that you do what you must to protect the ones you love. The Sullivan ranch … the two young ladies. They are family?”

That went without saying. He wasn’t sure if the governor understood the relationship, but it didn’t matter. It was probably better to let people assume they were girlfriends rather than the truth. He knew people wouldn’t accept him and Bruce together. 

Still, he thought of Chloe and Lois as sisters and that made them family. 

“Yes sir.”

“If it was my family, son, I would do whatever it took to keep them safe.”

Clark nodded. “I understand.”

“Clark!”

Clark glanced over at the doors to the saloon. Bruce stood on the threshold, looking impatient.

“You coming?”

“Yes, I’m coming.” He turned his head to look at the governor once more. Gordon smiled and nodded.

Clark joined his friends outside.

“What was that about?”

“Nothin’,” he said as they began walking up the street, trying to find a spot where they wouldn’t be seen.

“Clark …”

“It’s nothin’. He was just …” He shrugged. 

In many ways, the older man had reminded him a little of his Pa. Riding with the gang all these years had made Clark suspicious of any kind of kindness sent his way and when the governor had first offered them the amnesty, Clark had naturally been sceptical. Yet, even then he’d seen the kindness in the man’s eyes. While he couldn’t read, he had heard enough about James Gordon to know that he was tough and not afraid to go up against even murderers like Lex. Yet he was clearly a family man who was capable of deep compassion. 

“Clark, I know how you feel about this. Believe me, I do. I don’t want to kill Lex either, but if it comes down to your life or his, what do you think I’ll choose?”

“I know, Bruce. Believe me, I do. I also understand why you think that. It’s just, I still think it’s wrong.”

“Any more wrong than him being executed for his crimes?” Bruce pointed out. 

Clark knew what his partner was saying. It was a little hypocritical. They were, after all, deputised lawmen now and they had a duty to protect innocent people, like Chloe and Lois. 

He wondered if his Pa had felt the same when he’d been drafted to fight in the Civil War. He vaguely remembered Lionel talking about the war and the neighbouring states being on separate sides. Pa would most likely have been forced to fight men who could have been distant relatives. How terrible would it have been if he had been fighting someone who was a cousin, if he had been forced to kill the man, simply because they were on different sides?

Clark had seen death plenty. Aside from Lionel, when he had been much younger, there had been others in their gang who had met their deaths through the gun of a lawman. Lionel had often told them it was because the member had gotten careless; that anyone who was that careless deserved their fate. Clark hadn’t thought that was necessarily true, but then, he’d never seen it the way Lionel had. 

***

Bruce nudged his partner. Clark was still brooding and that worried him. 

“Clark, we need to move,” he said. “If Lex is on his way to the ranch …”

“I know. We need to beat them there. How many men do you think Lex has with him, Bart?”

Bart shrugged. “Dunno. Could be ten, could be twenty.”

Clark looked at Bruce, fear in his gaze. Bruce nodded. There was no way they could fight ten or twenty, even with Clark’s abilities. No doubt Lex would have managed to get some of that green rock. He probably had a stash of it at Miss Lana’s house. 

“Maybe we oughta get some men of our own,” Bruce murmured.

“I can shoot,” Bart replied. 

“It won’t be enough, kid,” Clark said. “Specially if it’s twenty, like you say.”

Bruce considered the problem. If Marshal White had turned back from Wichita, he was more than likely to be a day behind. Still, he had at least half a dozen men with him, which would help. 

If they could get to the ranch before Lex, they could at least get the drop on him and his men. That, of course, was provided Lex and his gang had only just left that morning, and provided that what Bart had heard was true. 

They continued walking. Despite the cold and the threat of the storm, the streets were fairly crowded. Bruce could see Clark looking for some dark corner where he could speed off but there seemed to be men everywhere. 

Why did he get the feeling something was brewing in town? 

Bruce felt suddenly very uneasy. There were an awful lot of men with guns around. He wondered if perhaps Bart had somehow misheard things and Lex hadn’t left town at all. As if somehow it had all been some kind of deliberate misdirection so they would tell the governor’s men and the men would go off, leaving town, so Lex could ambush them. 

He fingered the gun in his holster, thumb on the hammer spur. 

“Something doesn’t feel right about this,” he murmured.

Clark and Bart looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

He’d been thinking about it since the meeting with the governor. Lex had no reason to go after the girls again, not when it was Clark he wanted to hurt. Besides the fact that Lois and Chloe should still be at Lois’ sister’s place in the other town. Even if Oliver had managed to catch up with them, the sensible thing for them to do would be to hunker down and stay with Lucy until they were told it was safe.

Then again, Lois wasn’t known for just hunkering down and waiting for the storm to pass. She would be out there fighting. It was one thing Bruce admired about the two women. They weren’t just some damsels in distress who expected the men to do all the work. They worked right alongside them. 

Bruce pulled them aside. 

“Bruce?”

“Ever think it might just be too easy?” he said. “Besides, why would Lex go after the girls again?”

“Because he knows it would hurt us if he hurt the girls,” Clark said reasonably.

Bruce shook his head.

“Lex wouldn’t want to hurt us, Clark. He’d want to kill us. Think about it. He knows we’re working for the governor now. So he knows we’d report to the …”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce spotted someone familiar walking past. They had paused for just a second, glancing their way, before moving on. Bruce had a sick feeling in his stomach. Jason, he thought. Lex must have sprung him from jail too. 

He looked up, trying to make it look casual.

“We’ve gotta get off the street,” he said. 

Clark nodded, looking worried. 

“Bruce, I just heard something. Something about the hotel.”

“The governor?” Bart asked, gasping. 

“Could be. Come on.” 

Bruce began walking, speeding up his pace. He heard what sounded like a low whistle and looked left to right, trying to figure out the source of the sound. A hand was waving to them. A distinctly feminine hand. 

Bruce clutched his partner’s arm and told him in a low voice to look to his left, around the corner of the building.

Clark did so, sighing after a few seconds.

“Lois!”

Together, the three men walked quickly around the corner, but Lois was nowhere in sight. Clark murmured something, just as a door opened beside them.

“Get in, quick,” Lois said. 

Bruce glanced around, then entered what he soon discovered was a boarding house. He wasn’t surprised to find Lois, Chloe and Oliver in the parlour. 

“What are you doing here?”

Oliver just shrugged with a ‘don’t look at me’ expression. 

“When we heard Luthor had escaped, we figured you wouldn’t be far behind,” Lois replied. 

“You’re gonna get yourselves killed!” Clark said with a growl.

“Well, we’re not gonna let you two get yourselves killed on our account neither,” Chloe replied, frowning at Bart. “And you are?”

“Bart,” he said, looking her up and down with an appreciative gaze. 

“Ollie, tell me you didn’t bring them here,” Bruce told his friend.

“Sorry, Bruce. She’s the one running the show,” Oliver replied, gesturing toward Lois. “I’m just doing what you told me to do.”

Lois looked at him with a little smile, which Bruce took to mean there was something else going on between her and the fair-haired gambler. 

Bruce sighed and listened as Lois and Chloe both explained what had been happening in the past few days. After Clark had taken them to Lucy’s place, Lois had argued with her sister for about a day, wanting to return to the city, despite Clark’s insistence that they stay put. Bruce’s assessment of Lois was right on the money. She wasn’t about to stand back and let other people fight for her. 

It had taken them three days to get back to the ranch, by which time Oliver had found them, running across them on the trail back. Lois had remembered seeing him at Miss Lana’s and, while initially sceptical, had accepted that Clark and Bruce had sent him to keep an eye on them. 

Oliver then told him that on his travels, he had heard about the plan to aid Lex in his escape from jail. It appeared one of their gang had learned about Lex’s arrest. From whom was not so clear. 

Bruce wondered if one of the marshals was in on it. It didn’t seem to make sense any other way. 

He quickly told them his theory, that Lex had let it spread that he was going to the ranch, when instead he was sticking in town. 

What made even more sense was what Clark had overheard right before Lois had found them. Lex could try to kill the governor and somehow pin it on Clark or Bruce, which would then cancel the amnesty on them and have every lawman in the county, in the country even, on their tails. 

They had to stop the attempt on the governor before that happened. 

Bruce looked at his friends, scratching his moustache-covered upper lip. As much as he also hated the idea of having to kill Lex, between him and the outlaw leader, only one of them was going to come out of this alive. It was time for a showdown.


	18. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark team up with Oliver and the girls for a showdown against Lex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not totally happy with this chapter but I wanted to wrap up the Lex arc so the boys can get back to their quests.

Clark still felt uneasy as Bruce and Oliver began talking in the corner. They were examining their guns and Oliver was also showing Bruce a couple of shotguns.

“Clark?”

He turned to look at Lois. “What is it?”

“You okay?” the brunette asked, a concerned look on her face.

He shook his head. “No, not really. I mean, I know Lex wants to kill us and all, but …”

“See, that’s why you were never all that good at being a train robber or bank robber … whatever,” Lois told him, reaching up to punch his shoulder. “You’re too soft-hearted.”

“Yeah, and you got too much of a babyface,” Chloe added, much to the amusement of Bart, who was watching them. 

“Do not,” Clark mumbled.

“When you three are done,” Bruce interjected, “we need to talk about a plan.”

“What plan?” Lois said brashly. “We just go and shoot the heck out of the bad guys.”

“And that’s a good way to get yourself dead, Lois,” Oliver replied, giving her a shake. She again looked at him with a little smile. Clark instantly knew there was something going on between them.

“So, what do you wanna do, boss?” Bart asked, since it was fairly clear Bruce was the leader.

“If Lex is planning what we think he’s planning, we need to warn Governor Gordon.”

“How?” Clark asked his partner. “If Lex is fixing to ambush us, we can’t exactly go out in the open.”

“No, but I figure someone could get to the governor and warn him.” Bruce looked at Bart. “You up for it kid?”

“You just tell me what I gotta do, boss.”

“There’s one thing you need to watch out for. If I’m right, one of the marshals is working for Lex. Try to get the governor alone if you can.”

“Yessir boss.”

“All right. Clark, do your seeing thing and tell me if the coast is clear.”

“Seeing thing?” Lois asked, looking at him curiously.

“Uh,” he said. “I can sort of see through stuff. I don’t know how it works.”

“What else can you do?” she asked curiously.

“Never mind that,” Bruce said sharply. “Clark.”

He tuned them out and focused his eyes, concentrating on the street outside. There were several men watching the street from a building on the opposite side, but they weren’t necessarily looking straight at them. He focused more, trying to see what was going on from a different angle, but couldn’t get a good perspective.

“I can’t tell how many are out there,” he said. 

Bruce touched his upper lip, pondering the situation. Clark frowned as his partner began looking around.

“This is a boarding house, right?”

“Well, yes and no. Why?” Oliver asked.

“Where’s the owner?” 

“Upstairs,” Oliver replied, nodding his head toward the ceiling. “He’s an old buddy of mine. We told him to stay up there with his wife, where it would be safer.”

“Can you trust him?”

“Sure. He’s helped me out of a jam a couple times.”

“All right. Call them down here.”

A couple of minutes later the couple came down. The man, whose name was Emil, was olive-skinned. He wore steel-rimmed eyeglasses which made his eyes look smaller but he had a friendly demeanour. His wife Tess was a beautiful redhead. Clark quickly learnt that the couple had only been married a year. Oliver had met the woman a few years earlier, then when he'd needed medical help, he had found Emil. Oliver had introduced the couple to each other. He also explained that while they ran the boarding house, Emil also had a small general medical practice.

Clark listened as Bruce talked to the husband and wife, telling them what he planned to do. Tess looked nervous as he explained his plan. The husband seemed to understand, although he wasn’t exactly happy about the way they planned on using his wife, but Clark realised it was the best solution. The man was almost the same height as Bart.

The two men swapped clothes as the woman donned warm outdoor clothing. Bart put a hat on to disguise his face, also donning warm clothing, before walking with her out the door.

It was a fairly simple plan. Bart would pretend to be Tess’ husband, telling anyone who asked that they were going to the general store to get supplies. Since it was a boarding house, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to be going to the store together. Once they reached the store, the woman was to stay put while Bart slipped out to warn the governor.

Clark heard them speaking to one of the men in the street. Bart had somehow managed to roughen his voice so he wouldn’t sound so young. He implied there were a couple of boarders in the house so if any of the men spotted movement inside they would figure it was them. The man seemed satisfied with the answer. Clark guessed from the way the men were talking, they hadn’t seen Clark or Bruce enter the house.

Bruce had gone upstairs and came down with a bundle of clothing. It appeared to be men’s clothing. He thrust them at Chloe and Lois.

“Get those on,” he said. “I don’t think we can completely cover up that you’re women, but this way they won’t know unless they get up real close.”

The girls quickly changed. Clark looked at his partner.

“What are you doing?”

“We need all the men we can get,” Bruce told him. “’Sides, they got as much right to fight as we do. Don’t forget. Lex had Chloe’s pa killed.”

Clark still didn’t like the idea of someone shooting Lex but was resigned to it. There was no other way. Lex was going to kill them all. Even if Clark survived, by Lex framing him for the governor’s death, it would ensure Clark would never be free.

He sighed. When had the man he had once looked up to, the man who he had once thought of as his friend, begun to hate him so much? Had it always been there? Logic told him it had. From the moment Lionel had taken him from the farm, he’d shown more favour for Clark over his own son. That had to have angered the other man. 

Bruce seemed to notice his demeanour.

“What’s wrong Clark? Are you still thinking about what the governor said to you?”

“I just … I don’t get it. I thought Lex was our friend.”

“Lex was never our friend, Clark,” Oliver told him. “Lex is a killer. He always has been. What he hates about you is that you’re too soft in his eyes. Lionel was always trying to make you tougher and he resented that.”

“Why did Lionel take me in in the first place?”

Bruce shook him. “You know why. He thought he could exploit you for your abilities, only he never really understood what you are.”

“I don’t even know what I am,” Clark said, wailing.

“You’re a good man,” Lois told him. “You care about people.”

He frowned at her. “That’s kind of what the governor said. He picked me because of that.”

“Well, that’s a good thing,” Chloe said. 

The day had begun to cloud over as they continued to discuss what to do next. Lois was all for going out and drawing fire but none of them were willing to take the risk of either girl being shot and killed. Clark figured the light was going to fade soon which would make escape even more difficult. They couldn’t stay in the house either. Lex would turn the world upside down trying to find them.

Oliver stood by the window, keeping his body out of sight as he peered through the dirty glass pane. 

“There are more men walking around. I thought I saw Jack earlier.”

“Lex has gathered all the men, from the looks of it,” Bruce said, moving to join him at the window. “I’m betting he figured Jason and Jack would be the first to go if it came down to a gunfight.”

“We can’t stay here,” Clark pointed out. “We’d be trapped.”

“I’m not planning on it,” his partner told him. “But we can’t exactly walk right out of here, not with all the men around.”

“What if we created some kind of distraction?” Oliver asked. 

“Got something in mind?” 

“Yeah, I bet Clark could get in and out without them seeing. Maybe set something up.”

Bruce frowned. “All right. What’s your plan?”

Clark didn’t like the plan Oliver outlined. While he was invulnerable to bullets, he was fairly sure Lex would have some of that green rock. Still, if it could pull some of the men away so Bruce, Oliver and the girls could get out of the boarding house. 

What surprised him was the way Oliver’s friend offered his help as well. Emil told them his father had fought in the war and he knew a little bit of strategy that could aid them. He also had a small stash of guns which could keep them going for a bit. 

Clark left the boarding house through the back, making sure his exit wasn’t spotted by Lex’s men. He ran at speed to the end of the street where Jason was holed up with a shotgun. The man was too busy watching the street to notice Clark’s appearance and started when Clark called his name. He whirled, pointing his shotgun but Clark had already moved out of sight.

“Where are you, Kent, you sonofabitch?”

Another of the men called out, wondering why Jason was shouting. The outlaw turned.

“It’s the Kid,” he replied. “He’s around here somewhere.”

“Shaddup you idiot! Ya wanna give way our position?”

Jason continued to look around him, his eyes wide. He pointed his gun at anything that moved. Clark waited a few seconds, then moved faster than Jason could see, running to the next building where Jack was sitting, gun in hand. 

“Jack!”

“Kent, you fucker! Where are you?”

“Shaddup you moron!” the same voice called. 

“Kent was here, I know he was.”

“You’re crazy, Jack. They’re holed up somewhere down there.”

Jason walked out from his hiding place, joining Jack as they looked around them. Clark stifled a laugh as the two men left themselves wide open for ambush.

“It was him, I know it was the Kid.”

The third man came out of hiding. It was Whitney. 

“Are you two crazy? Never mind, forget I said that. Get back to your places and keep a look-out. If the Kid’s out here, then Batman won’t be far behind.”

“But …” Jack began to protest but Whitney raised a hand.

“No! Now get back before the boss sees you out here!”

Clark saw his chance, speeding past them and knocking them down, pausing long enough to grab their guns. He noted to his relief that none of them seemed to have any of the green rock on them. Whitney yelled, bringing more men running. Clark laughed softly as he watched the men run around like the chickens on the farm, trying to figure out where the next attack would be coming from. 

He hoped it had provided enough of a distraction so Bruce could get the others out of the boarding house. He could see men running along the flat roofs of the buildings, looking for them, but remained in his hiding place. Disarmed and vulnerable, Jason, Jack and Whitney could only slink away, clearly not willing to face their boss’ wrath. Lex could be vindictive and they had all been on the receiving end of his anger too many times. 

Just as he started back toward the boarding house to rejoin his companions, he heard the sound of gunfire. He couldn’t tell which direction it came from as more shots were fired, this time from a different direction. Clark sped back toward where he had left Bruce, his ears ringing from the noise. This wasn’t just an ambush, he thought. This was a battle. 

Suddenly he saw Bruce crouched down beside an overturned wagon. Guided by some kind of instinct, the older man looked around.

“Kid! Get down here!”

Shots were fired in quick succession, kicking up dust. Clark turned and looked in the direction of the shots. He instantly recognised the face of the shooter. Lex!

***

Bruce had waited just long enough for Clark to do whatever he had to do to distract some of the men. He knew they would only have one chance to get out of the boarding house. While the building offered some shelter, he figured they were better off in the open as it would prevent them being pinned down and lessen the chance of them being hit by ricochets.

Oliver’s friend, Hamilton, showed them an entrance to the cellar. He told them he’d discovered a tunnel leading to a secret room which had obviously been used in the years when the underground railroad had been operating. There was another entrance to the tunnel which came out behind a hotel, a few yards from the boarding house.

“Would have been handy to have known that earlier,” Bruce pointed out. 

“I didn’t think of it until now,” Emil replied. “You really going to go out there and fight?”

“We really are,” Oliver told him. 

“Who is this Lex? I mean, I know he’s the leader of your gang … ex-gang,” he added, with a sharp look from Oliver.

“All you need to know is that he’s a killer and he won’t care who gets in the way,” Bruce replied tersely. “Let’s go.”

Loaded up with guns and enough ammunition to weigh them down, Bruce went out first, checking the coast was clear before he helped the girls out. The street entrance to the tunnel was a storm cellar. Oliver took point, shotgun at the ready, looking around warily. 

Bruce could see several men up on the rooftops but their attentions were turned elsewhere. Probably to where Clark was playing cat and mouse with Jason, he thought. It wouldn’t be long before Lex grew wise to the ruse, however. He ran to the corner of the hotel, looking for some sign of the gang boss. 

Oliver hissed at him. “See anything?” he asked in a loud whisper.

“Not yet. Where are the girls?”

Oliver didn’t have a chance to answer as a voice called out.

“Come out, come out where ever you are.”

Bruce scowled. Lex. The gang boss called out again.

“I’m through playing games, Batman. I’m giving you one chance.”

Bruce knew if he called out, Lex was smart enough to figure out where he was. He waited, hoping the bald man would become impatient.

“Don’t think your little ruse fooled me.”

He closed his eyes, trying to figure out where Lex was hidden from the direction of his voice. It wasn’t that simple. A harsh wind had blown up, complicating matters. 

A shot rang out, ricocheting off the wall near him. Bruce huffed. Obviously one of the men was trying to flush him out. He ran back to the rest of the group.

“Spread out,” he ordered in a loud whisper. “Stay low and watch your backs.”

“How many you think?” Oliver asked.

“Dunno. Could be twenty, could be more. Can’t quite figure out where Lex is but I know he’s here.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

Lois and her cousin ran for it, heading for the back of a livery stable. No sooner had they managed to reach the wall when one of the men spotted them. The shots were wide, kicking up the dirt as they ran. Bruce turned, firing off a shot which in turn gave away his position. 

A man guiding an empty wagon turned, startled by the shots. The horse bucked, breaking the restraints and tried to bolt for it but was still tethered to the wagon, which overturned. Bruce ran over, pulling at the restraint so the horse could get free and told the man to run for it. He used the wagon to shelter behind as shots were exchanged.

He had lost track of the girls and Oliver and Emil were nowhere in sight when Clark showed up.

“Kid! Get down here!”

Clark pulled out his gun and dove for cover as Bruce’s shout brought another rain of bullets down on them. 

“Where is he?” Bruce asked as Clark crouched beside him.

Clark nodded toward a saloon on the other side of the street. Bruce could just see a figure wearing a black hat crouched down by the railing. He grabbed the shotgun, leaning it on the top of the wagon and fired off a few shots. Lex ducked down, but another of the men cried out and fell. Bruce had no idea how badly wounded the man was.

There was a sharp cry from a few feet away. Clark looked in that direction.

“Ollie’s been hit but it doesn’t look too bad. Winged him.”

Bruce glanced down. Their ammunition wouldn’t last much longer. 

“You gotta do something, Clark. We’re not gonna last much longer.”

“I can’t kill Lex, Bruce. You know that.”

“And he’s more than likely to have more of those green rocks. You have to, Kid. It’s him or us.”

He could see Clark was thinking about it, glancing toward the livery stable where Bruce had last seen the girls. His partner had an anguished look on his face. 

“I can’t,” he said.

“He’ll kill us,” Bruce told him. “We can’t keep this up.”

Suddenly shots came from a completely different direction. Clark turned his head, his eyes widening in amazement. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

“It’s … it’s Governor Gordon. And Marshal White! Where did they come from?”

Bruce frowned. White had been heading to Wichita. Had someone managed to warn him to turn back or had some peculiar instinct told the man something hadn’t been right?

There was a scream and one of the men who had been shooting from the rooftop fell to the ground. The fire fight intensified. Lex had clearly ordered his men to do whatever it took but with the lawmen on the other side, the men fell one by one until only a few were left. 

“Alexander Luthor, lay down your arms and come peaceably,” a voice called. Bruce realised it was the governor. “Surrender now and face justice.”

As if that would work, Bruce thought. Lex must have felt the same way, turning and firing on the lawmen in a rage. It wasn’t clear who fired the shot but the bald man went down, the gun flying out of his hand as his body hit the ground. 

Those of the gang who were left quickly surrendered and were rounded up by the lawmen. Bruce dropped his own gun and ran to help his friend. Oliver looked pale and in a lot of pain from the wound in his shoulder but he was alive. Emil was pressing a rag to the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding.

“Ollie!” Lois screamed, running to him. Chloe was not far behind her cousin, followed by Jimmy.

“He’ll be all right,” Hamilton assured Lois. “The bullet just winged him.”

“You boys all right?” Governor Gordon asked. Bruce hadn’t noticed him ride up but saw Bart with him. “Oh, excuse me, ladies.”

“We’re all right, sir,” Bruce told him. “We …” He looked around. Clark stood in the street, staring at the body of their fallen former leader. His face was pale, stricken. “Clark?”

Gordon patted his arm. “Leave him be, son. It may take him some time to come to terms with it.”

Bruce nodded, knowing the older man made a good point. Clark would have to realise that it would have ended up this way sooner or later. Maybe Clark had always been reluctant to kill, but there would have been no other way. It was one thing Lex had always understood. Kill or be killed. That was the way of life. 

Marshal White beckoned for two of his men to help Oliver.

“Take him to the hotel and get a doctor to look at that arm,” he ordered. He watched as Jimmy, along with another deputy, led Oliver away. Lois and Chloe went with them.

“Well, you boys sure handled yerselves.”

“How did you know, sir?” Bruce asked.

“I’m afraid I’ve had my suspicions about one of my men for some time,” the governor interjected. “When you told me you suspected Lex was headed toward the Sullivan ranch I kept an eye on him. Instead of going with the rest of the marshals, Flass stayed behind. It was already too late when your young friend turned up. I had already confronted the marshal.”

“I don’t …”

“I was once a marshal myself,” the governor told Bruce. “Twenty years of being a lawman, you get an instinct for these things. So when your friend arrived, I sent him on to fetch the marshals. It looks like we were just in time.”

“I had the same feelin’,” Perry replied. “So I ordered my men to turn back.”

Bruce frowned at the older man, still confused.

“Somethin’ about the story Luthor was spreading didn’t make sense. I’ve been chasing your gang for years, Wayne. It didn’t fit with what I knew about Lefty. He ain’t dead, by the way. Though he will wish he was by the time we get through with him.”

Clark turned and looked at the marshal. “He ain’t?”

“Nah, just wounded him enough to make sure he ain’t gonna jailbreak anytime soon.”

Clark looked relieved. Bruce patted his shoulder. Lex would still face justice and most likely the gallows but at least Clark would know that he bore no responsibility for it. 

Bruce sighed softly. Maybe they didn’t have the threat of Luthor hanging over their heads any more, but they still needed to find out the truth. He doubted Lex would ever give them their answers, so there was still at least one man who could. 

“I’m guessing you boys still have some things you need to take care of,” Gordon told them.

“Yessir, we do,” Bruce replied.


	19. Dodge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys head to Dodge City and meet a new friend along the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two new characters are from the Legends 'verse, not Smallville.

Goodbyes had never been easy for Clark. Lionel had once told him he was too soft-hearted because he hated saying goodbye to friends. The life of an outlaw was often fraught with danger and he never knew when his ‘goodbye’ would be the last one. 

As Marshal White and Governor Gordon left, along with their men and those of Lex’s gang who had survived the brief battle, Clark and Bruce looked at their friends. They’d taken shelter at the hotel and Oliver was still getting his arm tended to by the doctor. Lois was watching anxiously by his side. From the looks passing between the pair, Clark knew his suspicions were correct.

Emil’s wife Tess was watching her husband work.

“So, boss, where are we headed next?” Bart asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Sorry, kid. This is just me and Clark.”

The shorter man looked disappointed. “Aw, c’mon, boss. I got nowhere else to go.”

“You could come with us to the ranch,” Chloe said. “Now my pa’s gone, we could use another ranch-hand.”

Bart screwed up his nose. “No offence, pretty lady, but working on a ranch ain’t my idea of fun.”

Clark nudged him gently. “Might give you some time to figure out what you wanna do. You can’t keep running away.”

“Clark’s right,” Bruce said gently. “Where we’re going, it’s no place for a kid like you.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Chloe asked.

“To talk to a man about what happened to my folks,” Bruce told her. 

She hugged him. “Well, be careful,” she said. She turned to hug Clark as well. “Both of you.”

Clark found himself smiling for the first time in days as the short blonde stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around him. He could have easily picked her up but figured she wouldn’t be impressed at his show of strength.

Bruce caught his arm as he let her go. “Come on, Clark. We need to get out of here if we’re going to make the next town before dark.”

Clark frowned at his partner as they left the hotel. “I figured we’d just run it.”

The dark-haired man shrugged. “Sure, but we don’t need to spread it around. Especially about your abilities.” He shivered and pulled his coat tighter. “It’s freezing!”

“If we’re gonna just run to the next town, why don’t I just run us to Dodge anyway?”

“We don’t know for sure if Moroni’s there. But I did have an idea. Moroni’s gang won’t know about the amnesty.”

Clark nodded. “I’m thinking no.”

“So, why don’t we tell the gang we want in, now that Lex has been taken to jail.”

He was beginning to understand his partner’s thinking. “So we can talk to Moroni about what happened to your folks,” he concluded.

“Exactly. But we can’t exactly just turn up in Dodge on the same day. So, we bunk down tonight in the next town, get some horses, then ride over the mountains.”

Clark glanced up at the sky. It was already late and growing dark. The clouds looked almost ominous, a mix of a dirty white and a dark grey. It appeared as if it was going to snow soon, especially in the mountains. 

“Then we better get moving,” he said. 

Bruce nodded, waiting as Clark wrapped his arms around his partner before speeding off to the south west, to the city of Lawrence. When Clark had been fourteen, he and Bruce had visited it with Lionel, who had told them the city had been at the centre of a massacre by a Confederate leader and several of his men toward the end of the Civil War. Clark had noticed what appeared to be a memorial of some kind and had asked his then-guardian about it. 

Lionel had dismissed his questions and refused to talk about it but Bruce had related tales of an ongoing political war over the topic of slavery. Clark had often wondered why his father had been sent to fight in the Civil War, never really understanding what it was all about. Lex and Lionel hadn’t cared about the reasons for the war.

What had bothered him the most was the stories Lex used to tell him about slaves being captured and beaten. The look of pure malice on Lex’s face should have told him the man he’d looked up to was evil. Clark had thought it was just how things were. Now he knew better. 

“What are you thinking about?” Bruce asked as they walked the city streets.

“Lex. I don’t know how I could have ever …”

Bruce nudged him. “Kid, I get it. Believe me, I do. Lex had a way about him that made you blind. You trusted him so you believed what he said and did was right. It’s not wrong to want to believe in the best in people. A little naïve, maybe, but not wrong.”

Clark frowned at his partner. Bruce really thought he was naïve? The other man smiled gently.

“Clark, you might think you’re a man, but you’re very young still.” He canted his head. “The past few days have been one bad thing after another, haven’t they?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah.”

Bruce squeezed his hand and quickly let it go. “You still have me,” he said. “And I promise I will never do anything to make you not trust me. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on. I’m hungry and we need to get out of this freezing air.”

They found a boarding house where they were welcomed with warm soup and a bed for the night. Neither of them mentioned the fact they were US marshals, or that they had been outlaws. The couple that owned the house gave the impression that they didn’t care what either man did as long as they didn’t cause any trouble. 

For the first time in days, Clark slept well beside his partner. It was as if Lex’s arrest had finally lifted a huge burden from his shoulders. He noticed Bruce also slept deeply. 

It was early the next morning when he got up and looked out the window to the street below to find it had snowed overnight. While it was only a light dusting, it was clear that winter was well and truly on its way. 

He dressed and quietly made his way downstairs. As soon as he entered the main room, he noticed a difference in temperature. It was warmer here.

The owner of the boarding house stood at the wood stove, stoking up the fire. He looked at Clark. “Mr Kent, a little early to be up and about, especially in this weather.”

Clark shrugged. “I’ve always got up early. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The man seemed to consider the question. “Well, I could use some more wood. Are you sure you …”

“I’ll be all right. I don’t feel the cold much,” he said, taking a coat from the stand. He frowned at the man. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Carter. Carter Hall. My wife’s name is Kendra.” He smiled. “She never does like to be up early. Especially on cold mornings.” He pointed outside to the back of the property. “You should find everything you need in the woodshed.”

“Thank you, Mr Hall. I’ll be back with some wood soon.”

Carter regarded him silently for a moment before turning back to the stove to add more wood to the flames. Clark left the house and went out to the woodshed. He glanced up at the house, making sure he couldn’t be seen as he began chopping the wood with just his hands. Before long, he had a fairly large pile. He paused for a moment and looked around. There appeared to be some kind of storage chest in the far corner. He narrowed his eyes and looked through the lid of the chest, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in what he saw.

He put some of the wood into a basket and carried it into the house. Carter’s face registered surprise but he didn’t comment. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

Bruce had already come down the stairs and was warming himself by the wood stove. As had Mrs Hall. She had a cup of freshly-brewed coffee in her hands. 

“So, where you boys headed?” she asked.

“Dodge City,” Bruce told her. “We have some, uh, old friends we want to look up.”

“Old friends, hmm?” Carter asked, putting a bowl down on the table in front of his wife. “Oatmeal. It’s hot.” He turned back to the stove. “These ‘old friends’ wouldn’t be friends of Luthors would they?”

Bruce looked at the man in surprise. “Pardon?”

“I’m well aware who you are, Mr Wayne. Or perhaps I should call you Batman?”

***

Bruce started to rise from the table but Clark put a hand on his arm. “If they were gonna call the law on us, the sheriff would be here by now,” he said quietly before looking up at the older man. Bruce was a little surprised at his partner’s thinking. Not that he thought Clark wasn’t smart. It was more that he didn’t always make his intelligence that obvious. “And we’re not with Luthor’s gang. Not anymore.”

“We’re working for the governor,” Bruce told him. 

Carter nodded. “So, what’s in Dodge?”

“Someone who might be able to help us figure out some things,” Clark said. 

“Care to elaborate?”

Clark frowned at him, not quite understanding what he meant. Bruce looked at him. “He means he wants to know more.” He turned back to Carter. “Why do you want to know?”

“Some years back, I heard something about a young boy who went missing in Gotham, not long after his mother and father were murdered. Friend of mine told me all about it.”

Bruce stared at the older man, wondering what his purpose was in even revealing this information. Still, he listened as Carter told him his friend had suspected the boy had been kidnapped by someone who had worked for his father. While the friend hadn’t been able to find out what had happened to the boy, he had also suspected the worker had been part of the murder plot, in a bid to take over his dead employer’s holdings.

“How could he do that?” Clark asked.

“Seems to me that if the boy disappeared, there would be no heir to take his father’s place.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?” Bruce asked. 

Carter shook his head. “I don’t know. I only know what my friend told me. If you want to know more than that, I suggest you look him up in Gotham.”

Bruce stored the information away in the back of his mind. He was still determined to talk to Moroni and find out what the man knew about his mother and father’s deaths. 

Talk turned to other things and Bruce listened as Clark told the couple about his own mother and father in Smallville and what they had learned from Morgan Edge. Carter explained that he had known Lionel Luthor years ago, although it was apparent there was no love lost between them. He had once held a badge as a US marshal himself but an injury had forced him to retire.

He had found Carter’s story a little far-fetched, since the man was maybe about fifteen years older than him. Yet when he talked about Lionel it was as if he had known him as a youth. It didn’t make sense. 

Once breakfast was over, they helped the couple clean up. There were no other boarders. Carter told them it was always like that for the time of year. 

Kendra had been quiet at breakfast but looked at them with concern as they donned heavy coats.

“Are you sure you won’t stay?”

“We need to find our … I mean, we need to talk to the people in Dodge.”

“I would say be careful, but I imagine you have considered all the options,” Carter told him, shaking his hand before doing the same to Clark. “You still have my friend in Gotham.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, sir, ma’am,” Clark said. Carter smiled. 

“You’re welcome, Clark. If you and your friend ever need anything, please call on us again. I can see now why Lionel Luthor feared you both so much. For all that he tried to change you, you have remained true to the values your mother and father taught you. They would be proud.”

They left the boarding house and headed for the livery stable. The owner turned out to be a friend of Carter’s and happily gave them horses to ride. It was more than two hundred miles to Dodge City and they would have to go over the mountains which would add another day or so to their journey. 

Clark was quiet as they rode out of town. Bruce looked at his partner.

“You okay, Kid?”

“Yeah. Just thinking. They were good people, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, they were. I’m still not sure how he knew Lionel, but …”

“When I was out cutting the wood, I saw something in the shed. Some kind of clothing. And something that covers the head. Like, I don’t know. Maybe like the soldiers in the war, but not like any of the pictures I ever saw.” 

“That does sound odd. It looked to me like Carter knew a lot more than he was saying.”

The last thing Bruce wanted to do was tell Clark that he had been wrong to trust the older man. Despite his own cynicism born of his years with the gang, he felt the same way about Carter Hall. While there were obviously things the older man was not telling them, Bruce’s own instincts told him the couple were good people. Possibly someone they could turn to if they needed help. 

They rode until the horses tired, seeking shelter from the cold wind so the animals could rest. Clark again asked why they didn’t just run at speed to Dodge City but Bruce had thought it over very carefully. If Moroni heard the news about Lex, he would likely wonder how Bruce and Clark had made it to Dodge City so fast. Marshal White and Gordon had gone to great pains to cover up his and Clark’s roles in Lex’s arrest, protecting their secret for as long as possible. If they were going to use a cover story of the law being after them and needing to get as far away from Metropolis as they could, arriving within a day of the arrest would arouse the gang’s suspicions. Not to mention the fact that Moroni would very likely find out the truth about Clark’s abilities, which was something Bruce did not want to reveal.

They managed to get to the next town before dark but couldn’t find a boarding house to stay for the night. The owner of the only saloon in town refused to put them up. Clark found them a place to sleep in an abandoned one-roomed house. It was barely standing and would probably fall down in a good wind. The walls had several holes in them, making it barely adequate shelter but at the very least they had a roof over their heads. They lay together on the dirt floor, their heavy coats over them. Clark curled an arm around him to keep him warm and Bruce slept surprisingly well that night. 

It was another few days before they made it to Dodge City. The weather had worsened and the snow made the going difficult. Bruce was relieved when they finally reached the outskirts of the city.

“So, where will we find Moroni?” Clark asked.

“Good question.” Unlike their own ex-gang, Moroni’s gang didn’t hide out in the mountains. When Bruce had talked to Wyatt Earp, the lawman had told him the gang had taken over a ranch a few miles east of the city a couple years back. One of Moroni’s men had killed the owner and taken the man’s widow as a mistress. 

Falcone had once talked of an intense rivalry between the gangs but Bruce had the impression that Moroni and Falcone had grown up together in Gotham, rather like Lionel and Morgan. Except that the two Gotham outlaws had had a major falling out. 

Bruce led the way through the city. His horse was clearly annoyed by the cold and picked its way through the streets, snorting. Bruce continued to watch the surrounds with a wary gaze. He wasn’t surprised when someone wearing a kerchief for a mask shot out from one of the buildings and made a grab for the horse’s halter. 

Clark cried out and Bruce turned on his saddle to see his partner’s horse had also been grabbed. Bruce reached down to try to shove the man away and found the barrel of a gun in his face. 

“Well, if it ain’t Batman!”

Frowning, he looked up. Another man had joined them. 

“Yeah? Who’re you? Don’t recognise your face under that mask.”

“Umberto,” he said. Bruce realised from the papers he’d seen that this was Moroni’s son. Or one of them. 

“We need to talk to Boss Moroni,” Clark said.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Cause we do,” Bruce told him curtly. “Don’t ask stupid questions!”

One of the other men lowered his kerchief. Bruce recognised him as Tony ‘Fats’ Zucco. He was a short, fat little man who tended to follow the others in his gang. He was known more for his love of food than his prowess at robbing banks. 

“Where’s your boss, Zucco?”

“He ain’t here.”

“Yeah, gathered that. Figured he could help us out.”

“Yeah? Why should we trust you, Wayne? You worked with Falcone.”

“Falcone’s dead. So is Edge. Lex … he’s gonna wish he was if that lawman we saw take him down has anything to say about it.”

Umberto smirked. “Yeah, heard your gang was taken down. How’d you two manage to get out?”

“Luck,” Clark said shortly. “Look, we got the marshals on our asses, so we need to lay low for a few days. Figured the last place anyone would look for us would be here.”

Bruce suppressed a smirk. They hadn’t talked about any kind of plan but it looked like Clark was doing fine on his own. 

Umberto sighed. “All right. Guess there ain’t nothin’ doing in this weather anyhow. Follow us.”

They were tired and cold by the time they reached the ranch. Moroni’s son led them to the main house. 

“Pop?” he said to the man sitting in the corner near the fire.

Clark looked at Bruce and raised an eyebrow. Bruce figured his partner was thinking the same thing. Not even Lex would call his father ‘Pop’ or ‘Pa’. He’d always been ‘Lionel’.

There was a brief exchange between father and son. Then the old man turned to look at them. 

“Bruce Wayne,” he said in a croaky voice. “Haven’t seen you since you were a young’un. Guessing this must be the Kid. Heard you two were thick as thieves.” He waved a hand. “Well, come on, sit. Mighty cold out there.”

Bruce frowned. This was not what he’d expected at all.


	20. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce meet an old friend of Bruce's who proves to have some helpful information. Clark needs reassurance.

Clark studied the old man. Moroni looked sick. He was thin and pale, his skin damp with perspiration. He’d utter a few words and then start coughing. Umberto would lay a hand on his father’s back as the paroxysms shook the old man’s clearly frail body. Clark was even more concerned to notice that the kerchief held up to the man’s face was soaked with blood. 

“You’re sick,” Bruce observed.

Moroni raised an eyebrow but another coughing fit prevented him from saying anything. 

“Pop,” Umberto began, but the old man waved him away. The outlaw went outside. 

“I’m dying,” he said. “Ain’t nothing anyone can do now. The boy …” He nodded toward the doorway. “He ain’t handling it too good.” His wily eyes looked them over. “What brings you out this way?”

“We need to lay low,” Clark told him, sticking to the story they’d told the others. He quickly told the old man what had happened to Lex, leaving out the role they’d had in it. Boss Moroni nodded. 

“We figured the law wouldn’t look for us here,” Bruce put in. “Not with all that bad blood between you and Falcone.”

“Falcone’s dead,” he replied. “My boys saw him get hit by one of Earp’s men.”

“We know. Morgan Edge told us.”

“You can stay. Just for a few days, mind.” He looked them over. “Smart thinkin’. Always knew you boys were too smart for the likes of Luthor. Least where Lionel was concerned.”

The rest of the gang eventually came in. One of Moroni’s sons began cooking some kind of stew. Bruce quietly murmured to Clark that it didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen. It was grey-coloured and didn’t look at all tasty. 

The outlaws shot them odd looks and didn’t appear to trust them at all, even after Boss Moroni explained the situation, between bouts of coughing. Both his sons looked uneasy. Bruce asked them if they had got a doctor for their father but the boss shook his head, telling them there was nothing a doctor could do. 

They settled down for the night, putting a blanket on the floor of the cabin. Clark kept his arms curled around Bruce, ignoring the murmurs from the men who he guessed had no idea of their relationship. While his partner appeared to drop off to sleep easily enough, Clark lay awake for a while. He used his hearing to listen to Moroni’s breathing. It was laboured. He didn’t know much about diseases but whatever the old man had, it was bad. He doubted the boss would last much longer. 

In the morning, he went out with one of the men to cut some firewood. It had snowed again in the night and the other man shivered. He didn’t talk to Clark as they worked in what had probably once been a barn. It was almost a lean-to now. Half the roof had gone, the wood rotten, and two of the walls had almost collapsed. 

Umberto came out of the ranch house. Clark had never been good at reading people but one look at Umberto’s face told him what had happened. The outlaw pulled out his gun and pointed it at Clark.

“The old man’s gone,” he said. “So, I want you and your partner gone.”

Damn the luck, Clark thought. Bruce had been so hoping to find out what Moroni knew about his father’s company but it looked like they weren’t going to get what they wanted. 

“You gonna just shoot me, Umberto?” he asked. 

“Pop thought you two were okay, but he’s gone and I’m in charge and I don’t like you. I don’t like your ways. They’s talkin’ about you. ‘Bout you and your partner. Say you’re a couple of …”

“Umberto!” 

Clark looked up to see Bruce on the porch of the ranch house, a gun in his hand. His partner waved a hand. 

“Clark, get over here.”

With a wary eye on the other man, Clark moved as quickly as he could to his partner’s side. Bruce glared at the other outlaw.

“Don’t dishonour your old man’s memory,” Bruce told Umberto. “Your pop chose to let bygones be bygones by letting us share your victuals and your lodgings. We don’t want any trouble.”

“Well, you sure found it anyway.” Umberto called out. The rest of the men came out of the ranch-house, rubbing sleep out of their eyes. 

“Umberto, what in tarnation …”

“The old man’s dead,” Umberto shouted. “So that makes me the one in charge.”

“Says who?” Zucco asked. 

“Get them!” Umberto shouted, pointing his gun at Clark, who glanced at Bruce. His partner shrugged. 

Clark gazed at the man’s gun, bringing up thoughts which would trigger the fire from his eyes, and aimed so the gun would heat up just enough to make the other man drop it. The other outlaws just looked confused as Umberto screamed and danced around in the snow, shaking his hand. 

Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. “Nicely done,” he murmured. “Let’s get the horses and get out of here.”

None of the other men made to stop them even as Umberto shouted at them. Clark followed Bruce to the stable and together they mounted their horses, nudging them into a gallop. 

By the time they got to the other side of Dodge City, it had started to snow again. This time it looked like it wasn’t stopping. 

“We should get shelter,” Clark shouted above the wind. Bruce looked frozen. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Kid. Got any ideas?”

Clark was about to suggest trying a three-storey house with a sign for boarders out front when a figure appeared on the porch. The figure beckoned to them. It was hard to tell if it was a man or woman, but he decided it was too cold to worry.

When he got closer, he saw it was a woman. She had a heavy cloak draped over her shoulders, a hood covering her head. 

“Take your horses to the stable,” she said, “then hurry inside before you catch your deaths.”

Clark hurried to comply, shutting the horses under shelter and working quickly to ensure they were warm before joining Bruce on the porch of the house. His partner was holding the door open with difficulty. 

They entered the house, noticing a wood stove in the kitchen. A coffee pot was on top of the stove. 

Bruce took off his hat. “Much obliged, ma’am.”

“Get those wet clothes off before you freeze,” she said. “I’ve got some things you can wear for now.”

Clark looked at her. She was an attractive, dark-haired woman, probably about Bruce’s age. She smiled at him before turning to leave the kitchen. 

Bruce frowned. “Seems like a big place for a woman on her own,” he said. 

Clark frowned back at him. “What do you mean?”

“No wedding ring on her finger. Besides, this house is rather large. Seems I remember living in a house like this when I was a child. Before my mother and father passed.”

It certainly seemed like the woman was fairly wealthy. Clark wondered why she took in boarders then. 

The woman returned with a bundle of clothing. They’d both stripped down to their flannels and took the clothing gratefully. She took the wet clothing and disappeared out the door again, saying she’d hang them in the parlour so they could dry. 

When she returned, she bade them sit at the table and poured them hot coffee.

“Have you eaten?” she asked. “I have some bread. Baked fresh this morning.”

“Thank you, ma’am. That would be most kind of you.”

She smiled at Bruce. “Selina. My name is Selina Kyle.”

“Bruce Wayne. My friend here is Clark Kent.”

She lifted a hand to her mouth. “Oh my!”

Clark frowned at her, wondering if they should be preparing to run. Had she realised who they were?

“Is there something wrong?” Bruce asked.

“You don’t remember, Bruce? We were only children, but I knew you. In Gotham.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I haven’t been in Gotham in years.”

She nodded. “Yes, I understand. You disappeared not long after your mother and father passed. I was saddened by their passing. I assumed Alfred had taken you back to England with him, but now I see I was mistaken. Where have you been all these years?”

“It doesn’t matter. How did you end up here in Dodge?”

“I married when I was eighteen. My husband was a much older man, and very wealthy. He had no family of his own and when he passed, he left this house to me.”

Clark suspected she had married the man for his money, as he had heard some women did. Selina went on to explain that her husband’s fortune had slowly dwindled and she had taken in boarders to make ends meet. 

She gave them bread and some kind of meat stew which was far more tasty than what had been served up the night before. Clark’s stomach growled as he ate. His partner smirked at him.

“Don’t inhale your food, Clark,” he said. 

“What brings you both to Dodge?” Selina asked as she watched them mop up the gravy with the bread which was soft with a crisp crust on the outside. 

“We went to see an, uh, old friend of the man who raised us,” Bruce told her.

“I see. What business would you have with this old friend?”

“Ain’t nothing a lady such as you should concern yourself with,” Clark returned. His partner shot him a look. 

“Maybe I can help,” she said. 

“I don’t think so,” Bruce replied. “What Clark lacks in tact, he makes up for in straight talking. You really shouldn’t concern yourself with this.”

“If it is anything to do with why you have been nowhere to be seen the last few years, then I think I might be able to help there. I wasn’t always a lady.”

Clark frowned at her, wondering what she meant. Selina went on to explain that before she had met her husband she had been an orphan, living on the streets of the city, stealing to survive. Her husband, while not as wealthy as the Waynes, had been on business in Gotham and had caught her trying to steal food from the kitchen of the house he had been staying in. He had offered her a new life, a different life and she had taken it. 

“You hear things, on the streets. There was a man, name of Joe Chill. He’s dead now, but from what I heard, he was the one who killed your mother and father. You were supposed to die too but he couldn’t kill a child. I heard this from someone who knew Joe. Somebody paid him to do it.”

“Paid him?” Bruce asked.

Selina nodded. “Someone in your father’s company.”

Clark looked at his partner, raising an eyebrow. Bruce looked back at him with an unreadable expression. He clearly wanted to ask Selina more about it but she changed the subject. 

She began talking to Bruce about their respective childhoods in Gotham. Bruce had been known for getting up to all kinds of mischief as a child. He’d played in the streets among the children who, like Selina, had ended up orphans. No one had cared that they all came from different backgrounds. 

As Clark watched, the brunette moved closer to his partner, her hand on his arm. He frowned at the way she rubbed her hand up and down Bruce’s arm, clearly flirting with him. What made it worse was Bruce was smiling at her.

Clark couldn’t take it anymore. He got up from the table and left the room before he could shoot fire with his eyes at the woman. He went out into the cold air, leaning against the doorframe as he stared out at the darkening sky. It was only mid-afternoon but the snow clouds had made it seem darker. 

He knew it was jealousy but part of him worried that now that Bruce had found someone like Selina, then maybe he wouldn’t want to keep on with Clark. Like maybe what they had shared was over. It hurt, deep in his gut. Bruce was all he ever knew, the only family he ever had. He didn’t know if he loved his partner. Lord knew, he’d loved his parents but that was a different kind of feeling than what he felt for Bruce. 

***

Bruce had caught Clark’s exit but he’d been too busy trying to think of a way to gently discourage the young widow from her path. She was obviously lonely but he had the feeling it was less about curing that loneliness and more about his being the heir to the Wayne empire. 

He’d tried being nice and tried being tactful, but she hadn’t taken the hint thus far. 

Selina looked around, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. 

“Is your friend all right?” she asked. “I didn’t see him …”

“I’m sure he’s fine but I should check on him.”

She shook her head, smiling at him. “He’s a big boy, Bruce. I would let him be.”

He frowned at her as she put a proprietary hand on his arm. “Selina, how can I put this kindly? Please don’t. I am grateful for the shelter you have given me and my partner but I am not interested in you that way.”

She looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Me and Clark … we’re more than just friends.”

She continued to stare at him in confusion. “If you’re not … I don’t …”

He got up from the table. “If you’ll please excuse me, ma’am,” he said politely. “I need to go find my partner.”

She looked almost hurt as he walked away but he couldn’t think about that. He went out into the storm. There were footprints in the snow leading to the stables. 

“Clark!” he called but the sound was lost in the wind. Even if Clark had the ability to hear a pin drop from miles away, Bruce doubted he could hear above the wind. Head down against the bitter wind, he made his way carefully across to the stables. His clothing became soaked through in a matter of minutes. 

He was shivering as he reached the stables. Clark came out, hearing the sound of the door.

“Bruce? What are you … God, you’re freezing!”

Warm arms wrapped around him. His teeth chattered as he tried to speak.

“No, don’t talk. You shouldn’t have come out here. You should have stayed inside with Selina, where it’s warm.” Clark paused. “It’s okay. I mean, if you want to … with her, I mean. I always figured once you found out the truth you wouldn’t want me.”

“Cl … Clark, sh … sh … shut up.”

“But I …”

Bruce pressed cold lips to his partner’s. Clark pulled back for a second, looking a little confused by the action but he persisted. He gradually felt his body warming as his friend responded. When they pulled apart, the younger man finally appeared to have gotten the message.

“All right?” Bruce said.

“Yeah.” Clark looked past his shoulder and Bruce assumed he was using his vision to look through the walls. “She’s standing in the doorway. Should we go back?”

“I made it clear I have no interest in her, Clark. I don’t think she took it too well.” He explained that the reason he had been smiling at her was he had been trying to be kind. She was obviously lonely and had thought their shared childhood meant there could be something more. 

Clark still looked uncertain and Bruce shook him. “I made you a promise, didn’t I? I’d never leave you behind.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. “I just saw you with her and I thought …”

Bruce tousled his friend’s dark locks. “Well don’t think. That usually just gets you into trouble.”

His partner shot him a withering look. Together they went back to the main house. Selina was still standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean …” she began. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Clark.”

He shrugged. “It’s all right.”

Bruce glanced at her but she looked away. She turned to go back inside. 

“There’s a room upstairs you can stay in for the night. Maybe the storm will have passed by the morning and you can be on your way.”

Bruce nodded and thanked her. She informed them there were books in the parlour if they wanted to pass the time reading. Clark didn’t say anything about the fact he couldn’t read. 

Selina found a newspaper and handed it to Bruce to read. There was an article about Lex’s capture. Bruce scanned it quickly, relieved to note they weren’t mentioned at all. 

“What is it?” Clark asked.

“A story about Lex,” he said, glancing at Selina. She was working on some needlepoint and didn’t appear to have heard anything. 

His partner bit his lip. “Can I read it?”

Bruce frowned at him. “Clark, you can’t read.”

The brunet shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I want to learn.”

His frown deepened. Clark had never shown any inclination to before. He had to wonder whether it was because Selina, despite her upbringing, appeared to have adopted certain refinements since her marriage. It certainly explained why she had a recent edition of the Dodge City Times newspaper when her husband had been dead about a year.

Was Clark still worried that Bruce would leave him behind when he reclaimed his rightful place in Gotham? Did he think that learning to read might help him fit into Bruce’s world? 

It seemed that his partner still needed reassurance. It struck him, as it always did, that for all Clark had seen and done, he still retained that softness, that quality that had drawn Bruce to him all those years ago. 

Bruce beckoned to his partner and told him to sit beside him. Clark glanced at Selina, but she paid them no mind. He held the newspaper up and began to read out loud in a soft voice. Clark did his best to follow, occasionally pointing to a word with a frown. It looked to Bruce like his partner already knew the basics but had never taken the trouble to learn his vocabulary. 

He read a couple of paragraphs, then told Clark to try reading some of it himself. He guided his friend, helping him with words when he became stuck. It was a laborious process but he could tell from the smile on the younger man’s face that he was proud of his accomplishment. 

The shadows grew and soon neither one of them could see well enough to read, even with the oil lamps. Selina put down her needlework and announced she was going to bed, bidding them goodnight. 

Bruce watched her go, still feeling a little uncomfortable over what had happened earlier with the widow. She had dismissed it as a misunderstanding but he knew there had been no such thing. It had been fairly clear what she had wanted. 

Clark extinguished all but one lamp and took that upstairs to the room Selina had provided for them. The room was large enough for two double sized four-poster beds, although only one was in the room. It had been modestly decorated with a sofa on one wall and an armchair in the corner.

The covers had already been turned down and a bed warmer had been slipped in-between so they wouldn’t have an icy cold bed to get into.

There were no other boarders in the house. Most people travelling across the mid-west tended to do so in the warmer months.

They each stripped down to their flannels and got into the bed. Clark immediately wrapped himself around Bruce, providing warmth at his back. 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked. 

“Yes.”

He rolled over and looked at his partner. “You can tell me if you’re not, Clark.”

The other man shook his head. “I’m all right.”

“Then what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet since we came back in.”

“It’s just … I don’t know what’s going to happen once we get to Gotham.”

“Clark, I told you. I will never leave you behind. I promised we would always be together. Didn’t I?”

“Yes. But …”

“No buts.”

Clark was quiet for a few moments. “You said you once lived in a house like this.”

“I remember something like it. Yes. Why?”

“I never lived in a big house like this. All we had was the farmhouse.”

Bruce realised Clark had been thinking that he could never fit in to Bruce’s world. They had both come from completely disparate worlds and it seemed he was a little overwhelmed by the show of wealth. His parents had never been rich but they had owned the land they farmed. Even if there had been times when life had been a struggle.

Until Bruce’s own parents had been killed and he’d spent more than half his life as an outlaw, he had never known adversity. Even as an outlaw, they had never really wanted for anything. In the warmer months they had stolen stock from various farms as they had travelled from town to town. In the winter, they had hunted when the weather permitted and it had been cold enough in the mountains that meat could last a few days. 

Again, he felt that Clark needed reassurance. 

“Kid, listen to me. No matter what happens, no matter where we go, or what world we are in, it will have nothing to do with us. Or how I … how I feel about you.” It was the closest he could come to admitting his feelings went beyond that of friendship. He remembered his parents’ love for each other and knew this was as close as he would ever get to that kind of love. 

“But what if I …”

“You don’t need to prove yourself to me,” Bruce told him. “It doesn’t matter to me if you can’t read.”

Clark was biting his lip. “I just … I thought … I mean, what happens once the year is up? Would we still be marshals? The thing is … the thing is, I want to do something to help people. But I can’t help them if I can’t read.” He paused. “Remember that girl, at the bank? When Jason and Jack were robbing it?”

Bruce recalled the young woman Clark had helped by taking a message to her fiancé at Fort Leavenworth. His partner had also saved the girl from being hurt when Jason and Jack had robbed the First Metropolis bank. 

“I remember. I think that’s a good idea, Clark.”

First, however, was the problem of getting to Gotham and finding out who had betrayed his parents. It was time they were brought to justice, he thought.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. The storm had moved on overnight and while the snow was thick on the ground, it was clear enough for them to move on themselves. After a hearty breakfast, they bade Selina goodbye. She was subdued but resigned as Bruce pressed some money into her hand. It wasn’t much but he figured it would be enough to pay for the food and their night’s lodging. 

Their mounts didn’t much like being taken out in the cold but he was anxious to get to Gotham. 

The journey would still take them a few more days. The snow slowed them down somewhat and they had to seek shelter in various places, but they finally made it to the city. 

Clark stared in wonder at the wreaths and various ornaments adorning the houses. 

“What is it?” he asked.

Bruce frowned. “It’s Christmas, Clark.”

They had never paid much attention to the holiday as outlaws but he knew enough about it, having seen such decorations on the occasional trip into the nearest town. Clark had never been allowed to go on these trips, being far too young at the time. 

They left their horses at a livery stable and walked together along the icy streets, gazing at the decorations. There were a few people about, dressed in finery. A man passed them, tipping his hat. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

Bruce tipped his own hat in reply.

“Where are they going?” Clark asked.

“To church, I think. Christmas is a religious holiday.” He frowned at his partner. “Didn’t you have Christmas on the farm?”

Clark shook his head. “We went to church on the sabbath day, but we didn’t celebrate holidays. Except maybe Thanksgiving.”

Bruce smiled at him. “C’mon Kid. Let’s go explore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this story, Gotham is in Kansas. There was a vague mention of Gotham in Smallville (season six, Hydro) where a character mentioned being able to see Gotham from their office. Whether that is meant to say that Gotham is also in the same state as Metropolis or across the state line, I have no idea. 
> 
> I figured Moroni would have TB as it was a fairly common illness in those days. It also proved fatal in most cases.


	21. Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet Alfred in Gotham.

Clark was intrigued with all the decorations. He could barely remember much of his childhood but he was sure he would be able to remember something like this back in Smallville. His folks had been poor farmers and spent most of their days working. There was no such thing as a holiday on a working farm. 

He followed his partner as they walked the streets of Gotham. It seemed much darker here, dirtier somehow. He saw a few street urchins begging the townsfolk for money or food but most continued on, ignoring the pleas. He could tell from Bruce’s expression that he didn’t care for that. They had little money themselves but his friend still threw a few coins. 

They continued to walk, greeting passers-by. Some of the women looked a little uneasy at their appearance, since they were both looking a little worse for wear, but Bruce offered a friendly smile and tipped his hat to reassure them he wasn’t dangerous. Clark followed suit, smiling brightly. There must be something about him, he thought, since they visibly relaxed. Some of the women even smiled and looked him up and down appreciatively.

He asked his partner about it.

“It’s your baby face,” his friend said, laughing at the look Clark sent him.

Suddenly Bruce stopped walking and stared up at a high building. It was only five floors but it still towered over most of the buildings surrounding it. 

“What is it?” Clark asked.

“The name on the plaque,” Bruce said. 

Clark stared at the brass plaque. He’d been trying to learn his reading but being on a horse for days on end left little energy for learning. He at least knew his letters. He squinted at the letters and spelt it out slowly.

“W-A-Y-N-E E-N …” He stared at Bruce. “Wayne? Is this yours?”

“I believe so. Come on.”

He approached the main door but the building appeared to be locked. Clark looked at his partner, disappointed. 

“It’s closed?”

“Probably because of the holiday.” Bruce sighed. “We should probably go and get ourselves something to eat.”

Clark nodded and followed his partner, his head bowed. He didn’t see Bruce bump into someone until the man exclaimed loudly.

“Master Bruce?”

Clark looked up and stared. Alfred.

“Alfred,” Bruce said. “I …”

“I thought you had gone to see someone in Dodge City.”

“We did, sir,” Clark replied. 

“Only we didn’t get what we were hoping for,” Bruce told him. “I saw the Wayne Enterprises building is closed.”

“Yes, because of the holiday. You boys must be frozen. I have lodgings nearby.”

“Not the manor?” Bruce asked.

“I keep lodgings in town now. The manor has been shut up for years, ever since …” The older man sounded a little emotional. “Ever since you disappeared. I could not bear to live all alone in that house.”

Clark nodded in understanding. After Bruce had disappeared, Alfred had probably lost the only family he had. 

“Come along, Master Bruce. It’s this way.”

They followed the older man to a small two-storey house near the centre of town. It was modest and certainly nothing like the house Selina was living in, but it was clearly well-kept. Clark noticed smoke coming from the chimney and felt the warmth as they stepped inside the foyer. 

“Gentlemen, please do not forget the snow on your boots,” Alfred told them as he stomped on the doormat. They followed suit, leaving the snow on the mat. He led them into what Clark assumed was some kind of parlour. A fire was blazing in the fireplace. 

“Goodness, what is this?” Clark turned to stare at the woman who had come in to see what the noise was. “Alfred, I thought you were going to church?”

“A change of plans, madam,” Alfred replied. “May I present to you Master Bruce Wayne.”

She blinked rapidly. “It isn’t Master Wayne? After all these years.”

“Master Wayne, Madam Dawes, the housekeeper.”

Bruce frowned. “I remember you,” he said. “You had a … daughter. Rachel?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes indeed sir. My Rachel is married now and lives in New York with her husband. It is good to see you, sir.” She looked quizzically at Clark. “And …”

“My companion and friend, Clark Kent.”

She was clearly curious as to what happened but didn’t ask. Alfred asked her to make them all some tea as well as something to eat, then bade them to sit. He lit a pipe and sat in an armchair.

A short time later Mrs Dawes returned with tea with bread and butter for them all. They sat in contemplative silence as they ate. Clark finally found himself relaxing after their long journey. While he couldn’t be hurt like Bruce he felt low in energy. 

“Well now, Master Bruce. Perhaps you care to tell me of your adventures.”

Bruce began telling him what had happened since Lex’s capture and their journey to Gotham. He related everything Selina had told him. Alfred was quiet as he finished.

“Hmm,” he said. “Yes, I have always had my suspicions there was someone on the inside.”

Clark let his mind wander a little as Bruce and Alfred talked about Wayne Enterprises and where their investigation would lead next. He spotted something sitting on the mantelpiece and got up to look at it. It was a photograph – something he’d rarely seen – of a young boy with a man who looked a lot like Bruce and a woman with fair hair. 

“Who is this?” he asked. “Is this you?” He turned to look at Bruce who frowned and rose from his chair.

“Good heavens, it is! With Mother and Father. This must have been taken not long before they …”

Alfred smiled. “Oh, yes, I remember that. The man came to the manor to take your portraits and your father had a devil of a time trying to keep you sitting still. You always were an impatient boy, Master Bruce.”

“I still am,” Bruce returned with a smile. 

Clark was glad that Bruce appeared happy. His friend seemed to have fallen easily back into the speech of someone brought up in a well-to-do home. He fell quiet as he returned to his seat while Bruce took his own seat next to the former butler.

Alfred looked hopeful as he spoke to Bruce.

“If you should discover who was responsible for your mother and father’s deaths, will you return to stay?”

Bruce’s smile faded. “That I do not know, Alfred. I have spent more than half my life as a man with no home to speak of. And much of that time with Clark here. I feel we would not be accepted in proper society.”

“Yes, indeed. I am afraid this is so, Master Bruce.”

“I do not wish to hide in shame because my chosen companion is not someone considered suitable. If there is no way to compromise, then once I have the truth, I will take my leave with Clark.”

Clark felt a warmth inside as Bruce looked at him. It was good to know that he came first, no matter what happened. He hoped they could find a way to live without being judged by the rest of society but even he knew it may not be possible.

Alfred left them to retire upstairs. Bruce came over and sat next to him.

“I know what you were thinking, Clark,” he said quietly. “I meant every word. If people cannot accept us for who and what we are then we do not need them. I have everything I need here.”

“Except the truth about what happened to your folks,” Clark said.

“Except that. But if Alfred is right, we may be able to find out the truth starting tomorrow. There is a man he suggested I talk to. He may be able to help.” He glanced away for a moment. “There is still the little matter of your own past, Clark. You cannot tell me you are happy to leave things as they are. Your mother and father … why they were murdered.”

“You know why they were killed,” Clark said.

“Yes, Lionel killed them so he could have you. But why you? What did he hope to gain by controlling you and your powers?”

“Does it matter? I don’t want to know where I come from, Bruce. I mean, what if, what if my real family are bad people?”

“Do you really believe that?”

Clark sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Clark, you are the kindest man I know and it’s not just because of Martha and Jonathan. I have to believe that whoever your real mother and father were, they were good people too. Else you could not have become who you are. Your powers are part of you but they do nothing to shape your character. Only you can do that.”

He looked at his partner. “Why do you believe in me?”

“Because you believe in me, Clark. I could have given in, become like Lex, but since we’ve been together, I’ve known I couldn’t be that kind of man. I had to be someone you could look up to.”

He felt warm, but it wasn’t the warmth from the fire in the hearth. It was the knowledge that Bruce really did care about him. 

His friend smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I sure could use a bath and a good shave. Alfred said Mrs Dawes would be able to draw one.”

Clark sniffed. “Yeah, you are smelling a bit ripe,” he teased.

“Speak for yourself, Kid,” Bruce returned, chuckling. 

The housekeeper was only too happy to draw a bath and set it up for them in a room off the kitchen. In the interests of decorum, Bruce suggested they take it in turns. The water was heated by an old coal-fired heater and then poured in the bath from an old wooden bucket. 

Clark made himself busy while Bruce took his bath by helping the housekeeper peel potatoes and prepare food for their supper.

“There’s no need for that, Master Clark,” she said.

“I want to,” he replied. 

She smiled at him. “You’re a good boy.”

Hardly a boy, he thought, but he didn’t mind. She was a nice lady, chattering as they worked. Bruce came out as Clark was cleaning up. He’d shaved off his beard, leaving only his moustache and looked much cleaner. 

“Your turn,” he told Clark. With a smile, Clark moved past him and went to bathe. He found Bruce had already changed the water and he undressed quickly and sank down in the warmth. 

On the run, while they did try to bathe, they usually could only do so in the river. Up in the mountain hideout, there was no such luxury as a water heater and they avoided baths as often as possible, preferring to use wet rags. They couldn’t avoid them completely, since once their unwashed bodies began to smell they would attract wild animals, not to mention any lawman looking to make a name for themselves. 

As he lay in the water, Clark wondered if Bruce would eventually find a way for them both to live together without scandalising, as Bruce called it, polite society. It would be nice to have a place where they could both feel safe without being on the run. He might be invulnerable but he still liked his comforts just the same.

Bruce was pondering the situation as he sat in the parlour, pretending to read a book. Alfred had a small collection of volumes that he had taken from the manor library. 

“Master Bruce?”

He looked up and smiled. “Alfred.”

He could recall a time when he had been bitter toward his father’s butler, thinking the man had abandoned him. As a child, he’d been very fond of the older man and had looked on him not as a butler but as a friend. Now that he knew he had been stolen from his ancestral home, he could not be angry.

“You look well-rested, Master Bruce.”

“Mm. I do feel much refreshed after bathing. Clark is still bathing, I believe.”

“I have made up a bed for you upstairs. I trust you and your companion …”

“When I mentioned we’re together, Alfred, I do mean in every way.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I meant what I said before, Alfred. If so-called polite society calls my morals into question because the companion I choose is not what they consider suitable then I will take my leave. Clark has been good for me, in all the ways that count.”

“He seems very young. Innocent, still.”

He nodded. “In many ways, Clark is still very much an innocent. In spite of all that Lionel and Lex did to him. To both of us.”

Alfred made a face. Bruce had the impression the man was feeling both anger and guilt. Anger for the lost years and guilt that he had not been able to find Bruce for so long.

He leaned forward and spoke gently to the older man. 

“You are not to blame, Alfred. I must confess I was angry for a long time, thinking you had abandoned me, but I know the truth now. Please do not blame yourself for the actions of others. You had no way of knowing the future.”

Alfred was quiet for a few moments. He lit a pipe and smoked while rocking in the wooden chair. 

“Tell me about your life.”

“As an outlaw? It was not what one would consider pleasant, Alfred. It was a hard life. There were a few times where I could have been killed, but thanks to Clark, I was not.” He told the older man of the night they’d been stranded and Clark had kept him warm. Of the times he had been almost bitten by snakes, or shot by either lawmen or other outlaws.

It had been hard and a life he had never wanted. He had always felt uneasy every time they’d gone out to rob a train or a bank, wondering if that day would be his last. Yet unlike Lex and the others, he had been reluctant to kill. Even when it had been in self-defence. 

He could remember for months after he’d been taken by Lionel, he had had nightmares about the night his mother and father had been killed. The others had been completely unsympathetic when he’d lain in his bunk, crying because he missed his home. He’d learned fairly swiftly that crying would only earn him a beating. 

When Clark had joined them, Bruce had wanted to spare the young boy the same punishment Lionel had meted out on him. Even if Clark had been strong enough to take the beatings, at least physically, he wanted to protect him from Lionel’s bullying, knowing the emotional scars he still wore from his own experience.

“I am sorry, Master Bruce, that you had to endure such an experience. If I could have found you sooner …”

“There is little point in reopening old wounds, Alfred. What’s done is done. Now I have a chance to put matters to rest.”

Clark returned from his bath, looking much cleaner. He too had shaved, although at eighteen he had considerably less facial hair than Bruce. 

“Mrs Dawes says dinner will be in an hour or so,” he told them. 

“Good. I’m starving,” Bruce replied with a smile at his partner. 

By the time dinner was over, Clark was yawning. Bruce also felt tired. The days of travel by horseback in harsh condition had taken a toll but it was only just now, when they had no further need to travel, that he felt the exhaustion.

They bid Alfred goodnight and settled in the four-poster bed the butler had made up for them. Clark fell asleep almost immediately while Bruce lay awake a little longer. He turned his head to look at his companion, but it was too dark. He got up from the bed and opened the shutters, letting in the moonlight. 

Shivering from the cold, he got back in bed and shifted so he could feel Clark’s warmth. His friend didn’t appear to wake. Bruce gazed at the young face. Babyface, he thought. Asleep, Clark looked so much younger than he did awake, and he somehow managed to look very young even then. 

“Go to sleep,” Clark mumbled.

“Thought you were already asleep,” Bruce returned.

His partner shifted, throwing an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. “I was but someone keeps staring at me.”

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Mm-hmm.” Clark yawned. Bruce rolled over, feeling his friend cuddle up close to his back. The deep breaths a few minutes later told him Clark had fallen asleep again. He closed his eyes and relaxed. 

He was awake early the next morning. As he rolled over, he saw Clark was already up. Bruce quickly put on some clothes and went downstairs to find his partner chatting with Mrs Dawes while he helped her cook breakfast. 

“Something smells good,” he said.

Clark turned and looked at him, his eyes practically shining. For a moment Bruce was a little taken aback. His friend looked … happy. It was a look he hadn’t really seen much of in all the years they’d been with the gang. 

He smirked at Clark’s attire. Instead of just the pants and shirt, he was wearing something only a woman would wear. It looked like an apron.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

Clark looked down and grinned. “It’s to protect my clothes,” he said. “From cooking.” He waved his hand with a flourish. He had some kind of tool in his hand. “There’s sausage and bread and real butter!” Clark exclaimed, waving the tool a little wildly. Bruce reached for it thinking his friend could have whacked him with it. He couldn’t help but be caught up in the other man’s enthusiasm. 

This was the reason he hoped they could settle down. Clark deserved to have a home, not a life where they were always running. And by God, if there was a way to make it possible, Bruce was determined to find it. 

Breakfast was filling and delicious, warming him so he felt prepared to meet the day, even with as cold as it was. Alfred suggested he accompany them to the company offices but Bruce wouldn’t hear of it. He didn’t want the old man to be hurt should they encounter trouble. 

They walked along the streets of Gotham, wary of anyone who tried to approach them. This far north of Metropolis, he felt they were unlikely to meet anyone who recognised them from their wanted posters. He had asked Governor Gordon why they were not taken down, but of course, since they were still pretending to be outlaws so they could infiltrate other gangs, it was logical that the posters remain up. 

Clark nudged him as they reached the end of the street and turned the corner. The door to the Wayne Enterprises building was open indicating they were doing business that day. Bruce entered first. 

A man greeted them as they stepped inside the foyer. He stood stiffly.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, his expression carefully blank but as he looked them over, Bruce thought he saw the man’s eyes widen in alarm at the guns in their belts. He’d deliberately chosen to wear his normal clothes rather than a suit, hoping to catch the men off-guard.

“Lucius Fox,” Bruce told him. “I would like to see him.”

“I see.” The man sniffed with obvious disdain, looking as if he was smelling something bad. “And you are?”

Bruce had talked it over with Alfred and they’d decided if he gave his name, it would likely alarm whoever had set him up to be taken all those years ago. If the man was still alive, that was.

“You do not need to know my name. Just tell me where I can find Mr Fox.”

“Mr Fox is rather busy, sir. If you’ll …”

As much as he hated to do it, Bruce knew there was only one way to deal with this. He pulled out his gun and pushed back the hammer with his thumb.

“I don’t think you heard me, sir. I said, tell me where I can find Mr Lucius Fox.”

The man paled visibly. “Uh, you’ll find him on the third floor, sir. Second door on the right.”

Clark smirked at him as they moved past him to the staircase. “Was that so hard?” he asked. 

“But we have nothing of value here,” the man told him.

Bruce flashed his deputy marshal’s badge. The doorman looked even more startled. 

“I pray you have the sense to keep our visit confidential,” he told the man, who nodded emphatically.

“Uh, yes sir, Marshal.”

They walked up the stairs to the third floor corridor and found the correct door. A man sat at a desk reading a sheaf of documents. He was much older than Bruce, by at least twenty years. Alfred had mentioned the man had worked under his father. He wore rimless spectacles, the lenses a half-moon shape.

“Mr Fox?”

The man looked up, peering over the tops of the spectacles. He held what Bruce thought was a pen in his hand. “Yes?”

“I was told you worked with my father.”

The older man raised an eyebrow. “I’ve worked with a lot of men in my time.” He frowned as he gazed at Bruce. “You seem oddly familiar. Have we met?”

“As I said, you knew my father.”

“I am afraid I still have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Then allow me to enlighten you. My father’s name was Thomas Wayne.”

The pen dropped onto the desk with a slight clatter. 

“Dear God. Bruce?”


	22. Wayne Enterprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is determined to get the truth out of the man responsible for his parents' deaths.

Clark stood by quietly as Bruce and Lucius Fox talked. The older man was obviously stunned by Bruce’s reappearance.

“My lord, boy, what on Earth happened to you? You disappeared not long after your father …” The man peered at him curiously. “I should have realised. You do look a lot like Thomas.”

He glanced at Clark and turned back to Bruce with a questioning look. 

“This is Clark. My companion,” his friend told the older man, who looked a little confused by the use of the term, but said nothing.

“Tell me what’s been happening here,” Bruce said. “Alfred said there had been some problems within the company, but …”

“Well, I hate to speak ill of anyone but Mr Earle has been making some very unpopular changes. I cannot be sure, but I have my suspicions.”

“Of what?”

The older man went on to explain that he suspected the current chief of the company was cutting corners in various areas and pocketing the surplus cash. Lucius added that he had been trying to get the proof but even with that, there was no one to check the man’s activities.

“There is now,” Bruce told him. 

“You are here to take your rightful place, as your father would have wanted?” Lucius asked with a hopeful expression. Bruce bowed his head. 

“I don’t know. But if what you suspect is true, then I believe he may have had a hand in what happened to me.”

Clark wondered how Bruce was going to prove that, since anyone who knew the truth about how his partner had come to join the gang was either dead or in jail. 

“What are you planning to do?” Clark asked, speaking up for the first time. His friend looked at him. 

“I honestly don’t know, but I’m hoping by using the element of surprise, Mr Earle will make a mistake.”

Somehow, Clark doubted it. If this man truly was behind what happened to Bruce as a child, as well as the deaths of his parents, he would not be so easily fooled. 

They left the company offices. Bruce planned to wait until dusk, when the company’s head man would be leaving his work for the evening. They chose to wait it out at a saloon across the street. 

Clark watched the people passing by, most of them doing their best to keep their clothes dry as it began to snow. A woman slipped on the cobblestones and he hurried out to help her to her feet. She looked at him gratefully.

“Oh, bless you, young man,” she said as he set to picking up her packages. 

She was about thirty years older than Clark, with a larger figure characteristic of many of the women her age that he had met. 

She allowed Clark to walk her across the street to a carriage. As she stepped up, she looked at the plaque on the Wayne Enterprises building and sighed, shaking her head. She murmured something he didn’t quite catch.

“Ma’am?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I was just thinking how things were much better when Mr Wayne was alive. Poor man. He and his wife were such kind, generous people.”

“You knew Mr Wayne?” he asked.

“My husband worked for Mr Wayne. He was dismissed not long after Thomas and Martha passed.”

“Why was he dismissed?” Clark queried.

“Oh, he heard some terrible rumours. Something about Mr Earle plotting to take over the company. Anyway, I must be going. Don’t want to get a chill.”

“Wait! Please! Is there any way we can talk to your husband? My friend and I. We’re …” He turned just enough so she could see the badge. “We’re looking into what happened to Mr and Mrs Wayne.”

He didn’t know why he didn’t tell her who Bruce really was but instinct told him not to.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” she said. “My husband has been dead for years.”

Clark sighed. He should have known not to get his hopes up. 

“He did tell me something curious, though,” she said. “He was in his office when he witnessed Mr Earle’s assistant giving a packet to a man. The man looked like a beggar.”

“Who is Mr Earle’s assistant?” Clark asked. The woman frowned and he grasped her arms. “Please, this is important.”

“Dent. His name was Dent. I believe he only worked for Mr Earle for a short time.”

“Where is he now?” 

“I do not know. I am very sorry. I cannot help you any more than that.”

Clark nodded and let her go, helping her into the carriage. He returned to Bruce who frowned at him.

“What was that all about?”

He related what the woman had told him.

“I don’t think you should confront Mr Earle. Not yet. If we can find Mr Dent, we might have more proof.”

Bruce shook his head. “I still think my way is the better way.”

Clark didn’t want to argue but he had his doubts about Bruce’s plan. When he continued trying to talk his partner out of it, the other man turned on him. 

“Who is the oldest of us?” Bruce snapped. “I am! Am I not the more experienced of us?”

At robbing trains or banks, Clark thought. Certainly not at digging for the truth. He was taken aback at his friend’s manner. He knew how difficult this was for Bruce, preparing to face the man who could have been behind his parents’ murders, but there was no need for him to get so angry because Clark thought there might be a better way. 

He stayed silent, biting his lip. He couldn’t help worrying just the same. If Mr Earle was the kind of man who would pay someone to commit murder, especially a young child, then he wasn’t likely to just confess what he’d done. 

They continued to watch until the shadows lengthened. He thought as dusk came they had perhaps missed the man, but then he saw someone leave the building, locking the main door. He looked exactly as Lucius had described him.

Bruce was out the door of the saloon before Clark could even rise from his chair. He followed his partner with some trepidation.

“Mr Earle?” Bruce called.

The man turned his head, frowning. “Can I help you?” he asked.

He was a tall man, aged somewhere in his fifties with greying fair hair which was curled a little above his shoulders. He stared at Bruce. 

“You seem familiar,” he said. “Have we met?”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, state your business and be on your way,” he said rudely. “I am a very busy man.”

“Busy stealing from the company you represent?”

The man’s blue eyes widened, then appeared to flash in anger.

“Sir, I do not know who you are but to make such an accusation …”

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” Bruce said. “Perhaps this will help. I’m the boy you had Carmine Falcone abduct from his home not long after you paid someone to kill his mother and father.”

Earle stared at him. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t you? Then perhaps I should remind you of the night your associate murdered Thomas and Martha Wayne and left their son an orphan.”

Clark began to feel uneasy as Bruce refused to back down, even as Earle argued. A couple of men had passed by, each wearing long, thick winter coats. While his partner was talking to the company man the other men had stared as they passed by, not in a manner of curiosity but in an assessing way. Rather like one of the gang would do if they were checking over a job. 

He filtered out the conversation, listening. He quickly discovered his suspicions were correct when he heard the click of a hammer. Someone was armed. 

He looked around, trying to figure out the location of the sound. It was growing darker still but he managed to make out two shadows on the balcony of a hotel a few yards away. One of the men was holding something which could only be a rifle. 

“Maybe we should take this indoors?” he suggested, his hand on his partner’s shoulder. He managed to move so his own form was hidden by shadows. Earle paid no attention as he moved away at super-speed, racing toward the hotel. He jumped up to the second floor and knocked out the two men before they were even aware he was there. 

He sped back to Bruce’s side. The two men were still arguing.

“Bruce,” he said quietly. “Maybe we should take this off the street,” he repeated.

It was getting darker which made it even harder for him to spot any kind of trouble. While there were gas lamps at various places, they didn’t help.

Bruce looked around and nodded, clearly realising the problem. He glared at Earle and gestured toward the door of Wayne Enterprises. The older man nodded and led the way back to the building, unlocking the door.

Clark was instantly suspicious of the ease in which the man appeared to give way. He had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right. He just wished he knew what it was.

I should have listened to my instincts and been more firm, he told himself a moment later when Earle pulled out a small gun. He sneered.

“Did you really think I would just confess my sins, Master Wayne? Oh yes, I knew who you were the moment we crossed paths. I admit, I expected you sooner, but that fool Luthor decided to escape jail and attempt revenge.” He shrugged. “Of course, it would have made it much easier if he had succeeded after all.”

Clark stared while Bruce grew even more furious.

“You knew?” Clark asked.

“When that idiot I hired failed to kill you, I knew I had to do something to get you out of the way. So I hired Falcone to abduct you and take you as far away from Gotham as possible. It was a pity Lionel Luthor had to go and try some cockamamie scheme of his own by taking the boy.”

Bruce frowned as he looked from the company boss to Clark. “What does that mean?” he asked.

Fearing Earle was about to shoot his partner, Clark darted forward, hoping to grab the gun. The older man turned on him. There was a loud bang and, just as before when Lex had shot him, Clark felt an excruciating pain in his abdomen.

“Clark! No!”

He fell to the floor, his vision greying out. He could see a bloodstain spreading on his clothing and placed a hand on the spot, staring in shock at the way the blood began trickling through his fingers. The pain was so intense he wanted to throw up. Heat and cold was alternately spreading through his nervous system, making him shiver while perspiration dripped from his forehead.

He felt rather than saw his partner, his best friend, his everything, fall to his knees beside him, one hand on the wound. 

“Clark, no. Please, no. Don’t do this to me! Don’t you dare die on me! I can’t … I can’t …”

Clark heard nothing more as he passed out.

***

Bruce stared at the spreading bloodstain. The wound itself was glowing green, the glow slowly spreading over his fallen partner’s body. He cried out in anguish as Clark’s body became limp and his head fell back. In a fury, he practically leapt to his feet and grabbed Earle, shoving him hard against the bannister.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t allow someone like Lionel Luthor unseat me, now could I? His plan was simple. Return to Gotham with you, proclaim your right to the throne, as it were. Why do you think I hired his son to kill him? I didn’t care how he did it, as long as Luthor was dead.”

“What did you possibly have to gain from it?”

“What else, but power? Thomas Wayne was nothing but a dreamer. He wanted to use his money to help people, to give aid to the poor.” The older man sneered. “As if that could ever have made a difference! Thomas was a goddamn fool! There will always be poor. It’s the only way the rich can convince themselves of their superiority.”

“So you took it upon yourself to destroy his name? His company?”

“If it had not been me, it would have been someone else. I was not the only one plotting against your father.”

The whole story came pouring out. He’d hired Joe Chill to kill the Waynes that night, but as Selina had told him, Chill had balked at killing a child. Knowing he couldn’t allow Bruce to take his place as head of Wayne Enterprises, Earle had contacted Carmine Falcone to abduct Bruce. Falcone hadn’t been part of the gang then but he had known Morgan Edge. The pair had taken him to Lionel, who had decided to teach Bruce the ‘business’, all so he could eventually control him. When Bruce was old enough, Lionel wanted to take him to Gotham and reclaim his rightful inheritance. 

Then Lionel had learned about Clark and his special abilities, so he’d plotted to take the boy from his home. When Jonathan and Martha had fought back, he’d killed them. Again the plan had been simple. Control Clark and force him to use his abilities to help Lionel attain the power he needed to force Earle out. 

“How did Lex fit into all this?”

“I was travelling through Metropolis, six months before Lionel’s death. He attempted to rob the stage I was on but saw some papers I had on me. We struck a deal. He told me everything. About you and Lionel’s plans for you.” He laughed. “Lex wanted to kill you but I told him there was another way. Send you out on a job and have the lawmen do it. I never anticipated Governor Gordon would get to you first.”

Finally having had enough, he aimed a punch at the older man. All this time, he thought. Everything he’d lost was because of him. He went to hit the old man again but a voice behind stopped him.

“Allow me, Master Wayne.”

He turned and looked at Lucius. Two marshals stood behind him in the doorway.

“I was working late when I heard you come in. I knew as soon as I heard the shot that you would require assistance, so I left by the back stairs and fetched the police.”

“Sir, you need to let him go,” one of the policemen told him.

Nodding, Bruce shoved the former company leader into the waiting arms of the policemen and bent down to take care of his unconscious partner. He looked around frantically for something he could use to get the bullet out.

“He needs a doctor,” Lucius told him.

He shook his head. “If I can just get the bullet out, he’ll heal. I know he will.”

The other man looked grieved. “Son, it may be too late. The bullet …”

“No! It’s not too late! You don’t understand. He’s special. He can … he …”

He hadn’t cried when his mother and father died but he found himself crying now. Whether they were tears of grief or tears of anger he didn’t know. He just knew he should have listened to Clark when he’d tried to tell him not to confront Earle. 

“Please, just find me something. A knife, a sharp instrument. If I can just get the bullet out, he’ll be okay. I know he will.”

Lucius bent down. “He’s barely breathing,” he said. “I’m afraid …”

If Clark had been anyone else, Bruce knew full well a bullet in the abdomen was almost instantly fatal. But Clark was not anyone else. He was unique.

Refusing to listen to Lucius’ attempts at comfort, he sprang up and ran up the stairs to the man’s office. He pulled open drawers and cupboards, desperate to find something which could help him. His distress only heightened with each passing moment as he failed in his search, pulling out the drawers and dropping them on the floor. 

He heard the sound of something metallic falling to the wooden floor and looked down. A letter opener. He snatched it up and ran back down the stairs. The main door was still open. It was freezing but Bruce only felt numb as he knelt by his lover once more. 

“Clark, I don’t know if you can hear me, but hang on. Please. Please don’t die on me. I’m going to try to get it out. You just have to hang on, okay?”

Lucius still tried to stop him, telling him he could make things worse.

“He’ll die if I don’t get it out,” he said. “Either help or not but if you choose not then please just stay out of my way.”

The older man hesitated, then nodded. “What can I do?”

“Find me a rag or something I can use to clean the blood. I need to see the bullet.”

The other man got up and looked around the small area, producing a couple of rags. He bent down, cleaning the blood while Bruce had torn Clark’s shirt and undershirt. The wound looked bad but what was worse was the trails of green extending out from the area, almost like a spider web. 

“Dear God!” Lucius exclaimed.

Bruce took a deep breath then plunged the tip of the letter opener into the wound, opening it a little more. He felt the tip hit something solid and kept digging, wincing as more blood gushed out. He didn’t know if he was doing more damage than good but he resolutely kept going, alarmed at how swiftly the poison was spreading. 

Cringing, he abandoned the letter opener on the floor and dug in with his fingers, trying to get a grip on the meteor rock. It was slick with blood and difficult to get hold of. Lucius continued to mop up the blood as best he could. 

Bruce heard a gasp from the other man. “He’s not breathing!”

“No!” Bruce cried, not sure if it was out loud or in his head. “Please hang on, Clark,” he begged. He doubled his efforts, managing to grip the sliver of rock and pulled it out, tossing it away. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he sat back on his heels while Lucius continued to mop up the blood. The two rags were stained red. 

“Master Wayne, the bleeding has stopped.”

Bruce looked at the wound. It didn’t appear to have closed but the bleeding had definitely stopped. Hardly daring to breathe, he leaned over his friend’s body and turned his head, pressing his ear to the other man’s chest. Nothing. 

“I’m sorry, Master Wayne,” Lucius said. “He’s gone.”

“Nooo!”

“We must …”

“We’ll take him back to Alfred’s. To the townhouse. Alfred will know what to do.”

He tried to reassure himself but he had no idea whether Alfred would really know how to handle this. 

Lucius managed to find a carriage and driver and helped Bruce take his friend out to the carriage. The driver looked alarmed but a sharp word from the older man kept him from commenting. 

Bruce held his lover, praying that he would wake up. Clark didn’t stir on the short journey to the town house. He still didn’t stir when Alfred assisted in carrying him up to the bedroom. 

He could remember times when he would wake up to find sun pouring in and Clark’s face turned toward the light, his skin almost glowing. With that in mind, he laid his friend on the bed, closest to the window, keeping the shutters open so the sun would hit his body.

Mrs Dawes brought rags and helped him remove his friend’s clothing until he was fully nude. The blood had soaked into everything, from his pants to his drawers. 

“What shall I do with these?” she asked, picking up the bundle.

“Burn it, please.”

He changed his own clothes, giving himself a quick washdown then looked at his partner. Still no sign of life. Bruce sat down in a chair in the corner, watching anxiously.

He realised he’d dozed off when he heard a quiet knock on the door.

“Master Bruce?”

He looked up. “Alfred.”

“You should come down and eat something. There is little you can do …”

“I want to be here in case he wakes up.”

He could tell from the butler’s expression that he didn’t think Clark would wake up. Alfred left, quietly closing the door.

Bruce remembered the last time this had happened. Clark had woken up then. He had to believe it would happen again. He had to. He had struggled to tell his friend earlier how he really felt but he whispered it now.

“Please come back to me. I can’t go on without you.”

He’d never told Clark just how much he cared. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Clark thought he didn’t care enough. He knew how insecure his partner had felt over the past few days. Especially after what had happened with Selina. 

It wasn’t just because Clark had special abilities. Bruce had always known from the moment he’d seen the young boy that there was something else between them. He could call it magic, or even love, but his feelings transcended reality. If he lost him now, he knew he could not go on. 

He fell asleep in the chair and woke up some time later with a crick in his neck. As he slowly came to awareness, he saw the sun streaming in, the light shining on his lover’s form. Instead of looking pale in death, it was golden, as if surrounded by an aura. Miracle of miracles, Clark’s eyes were open!

Bruce got up, ignoring the pain from his stiff neck, and approached the bed.

“Clark?” he asked, aware of a tremor in his voice. “Clark?”

His friend smiled weakly. “Yeah.”

He wanted to reach out and hug him but wasn’t sure how strong he was. He looked down and saw the wound had disappeared overnight. 

“God, I thought … I thought …”

Clark nodded. “For a while there, I think I was. Or close to it.”

The others must have heard him cry out as the door opened. Alfred stared in shock. Mrs Dawes stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“God in Heaven.”

Bruce smiled at his former guardian. “Somehow I don’t think God had anything to do with it. Whatever it was, I’m thankful.” He turned back to his lover and smiled. Thankful, indeed.


	23. The Narrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finally opens up about his fears and their journey for the truth takes them to the Narrows.

Clark still felt a little weak but the smile from his partner and best friend was as strong as a ray of sunshine. He started to sit up but Bruce shook his head.

“Don’t get up,” he urged. “Mrs Dawes, perhaps you could fetch us something to eat?”

“Of course, Master Wayne. Master Kent, it is good to see you well.” She left the room. Alfred still stood at the end of the bed looking more than a little unnerved.

“Alfred, I know this is a lot to take in,” Bruce began, “but I don’t want to discuss it right now. I would like some privacy.”

“Yes, of course, Master Bruce.” The older man turned and left the room, closing the door quietly.

As soon as the door was closed, Bruce came to the bed. He appeared almost hesitant, his head bowed.

“Clark, I should have listened to you. You knew something was wrong but I …”

“Bruce, it’s all right. I’m here.”

His friend shook his head. “That’s the third time I almost lost you, Clark. I don’t think I could bear to go through this a fourth time.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.   
He turned away, moving to the window to look out over the streets.

“I know I don’t say this enough, but I’m glad for the day you came into my life, Clark. Not the circumstances, perhaps, but all the same, you made it more bearable. I never told you that and I should have. If I had lost you last night, I … You would have died without ever knowing …”

Bruce was never usually given to sentimental declarations. Clark had often wondered whether he was even capable of doing so. That was why he felt so insecure sometimes. Why he’d never been too sure of his partner’s feelings for him. He understood the necessity. Lex and Lionel had both seen emotion as a weakness. If the men in their gang had known there was more to them than just seeking comfort, they would have exploited it. Used it against them.

“I know things have been difficult between us of late,” Bruce went on. “That night with Selina, everything that has happened since Lex.” The other man turned to look at Clark. It was a shock to see tears wetting his face.

“Bruce …” Clark sat up, holding his hand out. “You don’t have to …”

“Yes, I do,” his partner replied. “I never want you to feel that I would leave you behind. I care about you too much to do that. I swear to you, I would swear it over my mother’s grave if I could, that I will never choose someone else over you. I would never have made it this far without you.”

“Bruce, please. Come sit.”

The other man complied, sitting beside Clark. He continued to talk quietly, sniffling a little.

“You know I’m not usually given to flowery words, but, I knew, even before I understood what it all meant. I knew you were different. Special. You were so young when Lionel brought you to us, but there was always something about you that made me want to protect you. And later …”

“You don’t have to explain,” Clark said. 

Lex had once accused him of being a dreamer, full of idealistic nonsense. The gang leader had often said he was too soft for the life but Bruce had always been there to defend him. 

The only thing he needed to know was that his partner needed him too. 

“I didn’t cry when they buried my mother and father,” Bruce said. Clark nodded. The fact that he was crying now spoke volumes. “I don’t care what others say about us,” he went on. “What we feel … it isn’t wrong. How can it be, when the thought of losing you hurts so much? I wanted to die, Clark. If you hadn’t woken up, I …”

Clark leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lover’s lips, quieting him. For the first time in their relationship, it felt like their roles were reversed. That he was the one giving comfort and reassurance. 

Bruce hesitated as Clark wrapped his arms around him and tried to pull him back down to the bed. 

“We shouldn’t,” he said. “You were hurt.”

“And I’m all right,” Clark said softly. He was still weak, of course, but that would get better once he had a little more sun. 

They lay together on the bed, touching each other as if that touch could provide more reassurance than words could. It was clear that Bruce had barely slept the night before as his eyes began to droop. 

He opened them again and sat up at the knock on the door. Mrs Dawes entered, carrying a tray. 

“Some breakfast, gentlemen,” she said. 

Bruce nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” He got up and took the tray from her, setting it down gently on the bed. The housekeeper left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. 

Clark looked at the food on the tray. Eggs, sausage and biscuits and gravy. His stomach rumbled at the delicious aroma. His partner grinned. 

“Heard that,” he said. “You always did love to eat. I used to wonder sometimes how we managed to keep you fed. You ate more than everyone else did.”

He grinned back at Bruce. It was true that as he’d grown he had more helpings than anyone else, despite the grim fare. As an adult, however, he found his need to eat as much diminished with each passing year. As if it could no longer provide the energy to sustain him. 

“Do you ever wonder how I came about my abilities?” he asked, helping himself to a biscuit. 

His friend shook his head. “I did once, but now the only thing I need to know is that they save you.” He looked thoughtful as he ate some of the eggs. “I think perhaps the sun may be a factor.”

“Why do you say that?” Clark asked.

“You were dead last night when we brought you here, Clark. Or almost. You had no breath, no heartbeat.” His voice faltered. “But now look at you. Your skin glows with the light of the sun. I remember when you were a boy, you could not wait until the sun was out. You would stand outside the cabin and turn your face up toward it and you would just … glow.”

Clark nodded, remembering those mornings. He had always loved the sun. It was as if his body was suffused with energy when the sun was not hidden by clouds. Winters were always rougher because the light was different. Less brighter. 

“Perhaps that is something we can explore,” he said. “But not now. I think we should go find this Mr Dent and talk to him. Once you’ve had some rest.”

Bruce started to protest but Clark shot him a look, feeling more and more like the grown-up in this situation. Almost dying had changed him, or rather, both of them. He realised that for his partner, what had happened had made him see things in a new light. 

“Bruce, I doubt you’ve slept most of the night. There is nothing so urgent that it can’t wait a day.”

His partner nodded, clearly realising Clark had a point. They finished their breakfast and put the tray aside. Appetite sated, they lay together on the bed. He reached over to touch his lover gently. 

“Sleep Bruce. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

He managed to doze off for a while but was awake again a short time later. When he looked out the window, he could see the sun had changed position and figured it must be near noon. 

Bruce was sound asleep beside him. Clark turned his head and looked at his partner. In sleep, the other man appeared younger, his relaxed pose softening his handsome looks. As if the burdens of the real world had been eased. For a while, Clark supposed they were.

He got up quietly and found a shirt in his size folded neatly and placed on the armchair in the corner of the room. Either Alfred or the housekeeper had provided it, he thought. The tray from their breakfast was also gone. They’d probably come and gone while they were sleeping.

He left the room just as quietly and made his way downstairs, seeking out Alfred in the parlour. He was surprised to see Lucius Fox, along with another man. The newcomer was wearing a long wool coat with several rows of buttons down the front. 

“Master Kent,” Alfred said, rising to his feet. “I believed you were resting.”

“I was, Alfred,” he said. “Bruce is still asleep.”

Lucius looked at him, only a momentary raising of the eyebrows giving away his surprise. 

“I must say, Mr Kent, you look remarkably well, considering the events of last night.” He gestured toward the bearded man. “May I present Officer Bullock. He is with the Gotham City police.”

Clark nodded. He’d already surmised that from the badge he could see on the man’s coat.

“How can I help you, Officer?” he asked.

“I understand Governor Gordon appointed you and Mr Wayne deputy marshals.”

“Yes sir.”

“Rather young, sir. If you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Yes, sir.” He chose not to explain and looked steadily at the other man. Officer Bullock was probably about twenty years older than Clark and had a careworn expression. 

“Well, I suppose the governor knows what he’s about.” He coughed. “I came to discuss the little matter of Mr Earle. I would rather have spoken to Mr Wayne, but …”

“I’m here,” Bruce said. His voice was steady but Clark could hear the tiredness in his tone. “How can I help you, Mr Bullock?”

“Well, it’s these charges against Mr Earle. Kidnapping, murder …”

“All true, sir. Mr Earle was behind a plot not only to murder my mother and father but he would have had me murdered as well, so he could take over Wayne Enterprises.”

“You must realise that Mr Earle is a leader in the community. Where is your proof?”

“I will get you that proof, once I find Earle’s former assistant, Mr Dent.”

Bullock looked concerned. “Harvey Dent?”

“I do not know if that is his full name but it is not a common name.”

“Mr Dent is a known criminal, Mr Wayne, and thus remains at large.”

“I will find him, sir.”

“Please tell me what you know.”

“Mr Earle paid a man named Carmine Falcone to steal me from my home. I was taken to be raised by Lionel Luthor. I’m sure you are familiar with the man.”

“Yes, but I don’t see …”

“Mr Earle was also in league with Lex Luthor to ensure that Bruce Wayne never returned to Gotham to reclaim his seat as head of Wayne Enterprises,” Lucius interjected. “I have here a telegram from the known criminal himself.” He handed the paper over. “Mr Wayne, please accept my apology. I did not know of the communication between Mr Earle and Mr Luthor until I searched the man’s office myself this very morning. If I had seen these before now I would have sought assistance from the local authorities.”

The look the other man gave Bruce was clear. If he had seen such communications, he believed Clark would not have been shot with a bullet made from meteor rock. 

Clark nodded and smiled to show he held no grudge against the other man and turned back to Bruce. There was no way they could have predicted the outcome even if they had found the telegram.

Bullock read the paper. “Well, this certainly changes things,” he said. “Mr Earle has been protesting his innocence.”

“You will find, Officer Bullock, that Mr Earle’s protests will fall on deaf ears within Mr Wayne’s company. There are many who would be glad to see the back of him. Sir,” Lucius added respectfully, addressing Bruce, who waved it off. 

“Mr Earle has been stealing from my father’s company for years,” Bruce told the officer. “I am sure there are many employees who will attest to that.”

“Yes, of course. I will have our officers conduct interviews. Thank you, Mr Wayne.”

Alfred turned to the officer. “I shall see you out,” he said. 

Clark turned to his partner, who suddenly looked every one of his twenty-four years. 

“We need to find Dent,” Bruce said quietly.

“We will,” Clark told him. “We will.”

***

Bruce moved to sit in one of the armchairs. He ran a hand over his face and groaned quietly. Clark had been right earlier. He had barely slept the night before, worrying about his younger companion. He had not been able to help replaying events over and over in his mind. If he had only listened to Clark, if he had been more wary of Earle … if he had done things differently, none of it would have happened. 

He had been afraid. Staring in the darkness toward the bed, wondering if he had lost everything. He would berate himself, his mind dwelling on all the things he had never told Clark. How he felt. How his whole world had changed once he and Clark had become lovers. 

Knowing that Clark had felt the same way and that it had nothing to do with hero worship had made him want to be a better man. He’d done his best to protect his friend, even going so far as to try to find a way to leave the life they led behind. Yet Lex had always managed to somehow anticipate those plans and block them. 

Now that he knew about the plot between Earle and Lex, he understood everything. 

“Bruce?”

He looked up at the concerned face of his partner.

“I’m all right,” he said.

“No, you are not,” Alfred interjected before Clark could reply. “You are overwrought and exhausted, I imagine.”

He smiled wanly at the butler. “Yes, I suppose I am. At least now my mother and father will have justice.”

“Indeed they shall,” the older man replied. “But you will do yourself no good if you do not rest.”

He frowned. While he appreciated the concern from both Clark and Alfred, he wondered why he was suddenly feeling so tired. He should be celebrating. After all, they had won a victory within the past day. 

“I am not an expert in such matters, Master Wayne,” Lucius said. “But I feel that this is perhaps caused by the resolution of the weight you have been forced to carry all these years. Your body is most likely reacting to the lifting of that burden. It is my theory that when we are faced with certain situations, the human body … adapts. It gives us strength to do what must be done but once it is over, it needs to rest and regenerate.” He smiled and shook his head. “It is only a theory, of course. I have no medical knowledge.”

It sounded plausible, even to Bruce, despite his own lack of knowledge. 

“I do think you might be on to something, Mr Fox. What is your position within Wayne Enterprises?”

“Ah, I am an inventor, of sorts. I have no official title, of course.”

“Would you be interested in a managerial position, sir? Now that Earle is in the custody of Gotham Police I would need someone I could trust to manage my father’s affairs.”

Lucius looked at him. “You do not wish to return yourself?”

“Clark and I still have much to do for the Governor. If we can perform our tasks to his satisfaction, we will be able to start over. Perhaps then we can consider returning to live in Gotham.” He smiled at Clark. “I would like to take up residence in the manor, if Clark would consider living with me as my companion.”

Clark returned the smile. “I have no need to consider it, Bruce.” The answer was a clear ‘yes’.

“You are aware that society …”

Bruce looked at his butler. “As I told you earlier, I don’t give a damn what society will consider appropriate. What Clark and I do behind closed doors is no one’s business but ours. He is my companion, my partner, in everything. That will never change. I wish to spend the rest of my life with him.”

He gazed at the two older men, daring them to contradict him. Neither man commented. 

Clark insisted they retire early after dinner and Bruce didn’t have the heart to argue. They lay together in the bed, not sleeping, but talking over the future. His friend expressed a wish to have a garden where he could grow fruit and vegetables. As much as he was not Jonathan Kent’s son by blood, he was in every other way that counted and had adopted many of his father’s own feelings toward the land. 

Bruce watched his partner’s face as they continued to speculate on what the future would hold, reminded of his earlier thoughts about making sure Clark had a place he could call home. 

“What about finding out about your family?” he asked. 

“Jonathan and Martha Kent were my family. You’re my family. Yes, I do want to learn more about my powers and use them to help people but as for my birth mother and father, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Bruce asked nothing further on the subject. He was sure Clark would change his mind eventually but they still had plenty of time for that. They had eleven months to do everything Jim Gordon had asked of them. 

Next morning, after a good night’s rest, Bruce felt more refreshed and ready to take on the task of hunting down Harvey Dent. They left the townhouse shortly after breakfast. Clark asked him quietly how they should play this. 

“If Dent is a criminal as Officer Bullock told us yesterday then we should not reveal we’re deputy marshals.”

“They may not have heard of us this far east of Metropolis.”

“Perhaps not, but we may still be able to play that card.” 

They collected their horses from the livery stable and began their journey to a part of the city called the Narrows. Alfred had told them it was a notorious hang-out for the city’s criminals. It was also the location for a place called Arkham Asylum. Even the butler had shuddered at the very mention of the name. 

The Narrows was an island which could be accessed by a narrow bridge, or by boat. Most of the citizens of Gotham avoided the island completely, fearing attack by some of the seedier population. 

Bruce stopped his horse on the slope above the bridge. 

“That’s it?” Clark asked. 

“That’s it. We will have to dismount and walk the horses across.”

His horse shifted uneasily. Clark glanced over, then back at the bridge. 

“It looks icy underfoot,” he observed. “Wait here.”

Bruce called out as Clark dismounted his horse and ran down to the bridge. He stood at the entry. After a few moments, steam began to rise from the wooden planks. Then Clark returned to his side.

“What did you do?” Bruce asked. Clark shrugged. 

“I just melted some of the ice so it’ll be easier to get across. We may need to hurry though.”

“I don’t think the ice will form that quickly,” Bruce replied with a light chuckle. “It’s not cold enough.”

Nevertheless, he dismounted and took the reins, keeping a firm hand on them as they each made their way quickly across the bridge, Clark leading. 

They again mounted and rode through the streets. Bruce understood why the area had such a bad reputation among those who lived in the central part of Gotham. None of the houses in the Narrows were well-kept – some even appeared to be falling apart. 

He spotted a few faces appearing briefly in windows before disappearing again. 

“We’re being watched,” Clark said in a low warning tone.

“I know. Just keep going.”

It wasn’t long before those watchful eyes turned into bodies on dilapidated porches glaring at them as they passed. A few of the men held shotguns as clear warning. Bruce chose to ignore them.

“Saloon,” his partner said, pointing to a building in the next block. 

It was a good place to start. He nodded and nudged his horse with his foot until they reached the hitching post outside the saloon. The post was almost broken in half but it would keep the horses from wandering away. 

They entered the saloon and Bruce ordered a whiskey for himself and a sarsaparilla for Clark. 

“Uh oh,” Clark said quietly. He had turned to look around the room. 

“Well, if it ain’t Batman and the Kid!” 

Bruce glared at the man who approached them. “Cobblepot. Figured you would be dead by now.”

The man smirked and thrust the fringe of his greasy hair back.

“No such luck. Heard Lefty got taken by Marshal White. Too bad. How’d y’all manage to not get captured?”

“Just lucky,” Clark told him. 

“Lucky, huh?” Cobblepot looked sceptical. “Kid, you must have some kinda luck then.”

“Yeah, you know something about it, Penguin?” Bruce accused.

The other man glared at him. “Don’t call me that!”

Cobblepot had been nicknamed the Penguin because of his odd walk. Bruce had no idea how the man had got the limp as he’d always had it for as long as they’d known him, or known of his reputation. The other man was always quick to switch allegiances as long as it was of some benefit to him. 

Clearly the man had been looking for some kind of fight as he whipped out his gun. Clark whipped out his own gun, holding it on the dark-haired man.

“Don’t even think about it, Penguin,” he said coolly. 

Bruce picked up his glass of whiskey and sipped it, eyeing the other man almost nonchalantly. He knew Cobblepot would never get a chance to shoot, not with Clark by his side. 

“We’re not here for this,” he said. “We just wanna know where Dent is.”

Penguin relaxed a little. “Two-Face? Dunno where he is. What d’you want him for?”

“That’s for us to know,” Clark told him. “You know anything about where he usually hangs out?”

“Yeah.” He told them of a place near the river. “But I wouldn’t mess with him. Dent’s crazy. He was in Arkham but he broke out.”

“Don’t care,” Bruce said, roughening up his tone and his diction. “’Sides, we just wanna talk to him, is all.”

“Why’s he called Two-Face?” Clark asked.

“’Cause guy like that, he’ll turn on you just as soon as look at you.”

Unlike you, Bruce thought, remembering the man’s own changing loyalties. 

Cobblepot turned away from them, going to speak to the bartender, a rotund man in his fifties. The two men exchanged words before the skinny outlaw went upstairs to join a woman. 

Clark looked at him. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

“We’re not here for him right now,” Bruce told him. “We find Dent first, then we can do something about Cobblepot and the others.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Clark drained the rest of his glass. “So, let’s go.”

They left the saloon and rode away, but soon became aware of being followed. Clark murmured quietly to Bruce that he would stop so Bruce could go on ahead while he would double back to try to identify their pursuer. 

Clark stopped his horse and dismounted, pretending to check his horse’s leg. Bruce acted concerned, stopping as if to help, but his partner made a show of waving him away, telling him to go on without him and he’d catch up.

He had not gone very far when he heard horses behind him. Then Clark spoke.

“I hope you’re not planning on an ambush,” he said. 

Bruce turned his horse around to see his partner confronting two men on horseback. They both were dressed roughly, holding handguns. Clark hadn’t even bothered to draw his own gun, almost laughing at the two men. 

“Why are you following us?” Bruce accused.

“Maybe we wanna know what two such well-dressed folk such as yourselves want in the Narrows,” one of the men replied. 

Bruce glanced at his clothing. They were hardly well-dressed, but their clothing was at least in better shape than these two ruffians, he thought.

“Yeah? Well, we don’t like being followed!” Clark growled. 

The apparent leader of the pair smirked, clearly thinking they were no threat. 

“We don’t want your kind here,” he growled back.

“What kind is that?” Bruce asked. He slowly reached for his gun but the second man seemed to spot his movements. He was about to shoot when something spooked his horse. It reared up, unseating him. 

Clark grinned, grabbing the man’s gun where it had dropped. The leader stared.

“Now how about you boys just get on your way,” Clark said. 

The leader smiled slyly. “You gonna shoot me, boy? You don’t have the gumption.”

“You lead us to Harvey Dent and we won’t do nothing,” Bruce replied, careful to keep his speech rough so as not to give away his own real identity. 

“What d’ya want him for?”

“That’s our business,” Clark said sharply. “Where is he?”

The other man swallowed visibly. “Uh, we’ll lead you to him.”

As much as Bruce wanted to believe the man was sufficiently afraid to not lead them into a trap, he knew better. For the rest of the journey he kept a wary eye on both men.


	24. Dent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark locate the final witness.

Clark could tell his partner was keeping his guard up with the two men as they rode further and further into the Narrows. He didn’t like this. He trusted neither man, wondering if they were being led into a trap. It was clear Bruce felt the same way. 

He rode behind the two men, watching for any sign of trouble. His horse must have felt his tension as it snorted and nodded its head up and down, resisting his commands. He laid a hand on its mane, hoping the light pressure would calm it, while he eased his hold on the reins. The horse seemed to understand and calmed a little. 

As the territory became a little rougher, Clark tuned in his hearing, listening for anything that might help him anticipate what might happen. As they headed into what appeared to be a pass, he heard the sound of guns being loaded. He looked up and focused his vision. The sun was overhead and he had to blink a few times to focus but after a short while he managed to see two figures preparing to shoot. 

He debated what to do. If he suddenly disappeared, they would know he had abilities, but if he stayed put, they would ambush both him and Bruce. That was if they were actually there for them at all. It was possible, only by a minute amount, that the men were hoping to ambush the other two. 

He decided to hang back even further, letting his partner and the others move on ahead. He tightened his hold on the reins once more, pulling hard enough so his horse would protest and act up. Sure enough, the animal snorted loudly and shook its head hard enough that it might force him to loosen his grip. When that didn’t work, it tried to rear up on its hind legs to dislodge him. It whinnied, loud enough for the three men riding ahead to turn and frown.

“Clark! You all right?” Bruce called.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Guess I’m just not used to this horse.”

His partner shot him a look, his gaze hidden by the brim of his hat. Bruce knew Clark was a good rider. He’d been riding practically from the moment he’d gone to live with his folks and was experienced with horses of any temperament. Lionel had once managed to capture a horse that, even once broken, wouldn’t let anyone ride him but Clark. 

Clark turned his gaze up toward the top of the pass, trying to convey with a look what was really going on. Bruce smiled slightly and turned away, joining the other two men. He waited until the men were far enough ahead before he dismounted and led the horse into some brush. It was tall enough that they would both be hidden from view from the men above.

He ran at full speed, looking for the trail up the mountain pass, quickly locating the path. As he reached the top, he saw two men sitting on the ground, overlooking the pass, holding rifles. They appeared a little unsure. One was peering in the direction where Clark had taken his horse.

“What is he doing?”

“Maybe the horse is lame,” the other man said. 

“Well, he better come out soon. They’re almost at the pass.”

“What’re we supposed to do with ‘em once we got ‘em?”

The older man shrugged. “Dunno. Boss just said get rid of ‘em.”

“Think they’re lawmen?”

“What’re ya askin’ me fer? Do I look like I know? Look, the older one’s close enough. Let’s just shoot and ask questions later.”

The younger man frowned. “But if we shoot ‘em, they’ll be dead. How can we ask questions …?”

“I don’t mean them, ya idiot! I meant the boss.” He huffed in impatience and lifted the rifle to his shoulder, steadying himself as he aimed. Before he could fire, Clark shot a burst of heat at the butt of the gun. The man dropped his gun with a scream. Another burst of heat at the companion’s gun forced him to drop his weapon as well.

Before they could turn around, Clark was gone, running back down the trail to his horse. He quickly got on and nudged its flank, forcing it to a canter so he could catch up with his partner. 

The movements of the two men above had caught Bruce’s eye and he’d pulled out his own gun, turning it on the two men who had led them to the ambush. Both men looked uneasily at each other. 

“We didn’t know,” the first man said in protest. “I swear, we didn’t.”

“Right,” Bruce was saying. “I’ll believe that.” He looked at Clark, who had pulled out his own gun to turn on the two men. “You believe ‘em Clark?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Both men looked even more nervous. The older one flushed. 

“Uh, what are you planning to do with us?”

“First, we’ll take care of your friends up there. Then you two will lead us to Dent, like we asked. And if you try any more tricks …”

“You won’t do nothin’,” the younger man replied.

“I wouldn’t test that,” Clark told him with a glare. He aimed just a little heat on the feet of the other man’s horse, making it paw the ground nervously. He’d already noticed that the younger man wasn’t as confident on a horse as his partner and the fidgeting of his mount was enough to make him shift uneasily on his saddle. 

The man stared at him, as if he knew Clark had done something but just wasn’t sure what. 

Bruce led the way up the trail to the pass. The pair who had tried to ambush them were still trying to get on their horses, which had obviously been hidden somewhere along the trail. They turned at their approach.

“We ain’t tellin’ ya nothin’,” one of them said.

Bruce shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You two are coming with us.”

One of the men, the taller of the two, narrowed his eyes at them. 

“I know you. You’re the one they call Batman.”

“That I am. And I’m guessin’ if you know me, you’ll know my friend. Kid Kent.”

The second of the two who had tried to ambush them at the pass smirked at them.

“Yeah, youse guys run with Luthor’s gang.”

“Not anymore,” Clark said. “Lefty got taken down by lawmen in Metropolis. Along with some of the others in the gang.”

One of the four men raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah? How come you two ain’t?”

“’Cause we ain’t stupid enough to get caught,” Bruce returned. He gestured. “Come on. Move it.”

“You ain’t the boss of us,” the shorter one said sullenly. 

“No, and I sure as hell ain’t your friend neither,” he replied tersely. “Ride in front. Me and Clark will ride in back so we can keep an eye on you.”

“You two think you’re real smart, don’tcha?”

Clark glared at the man who was the obvious leader of the group. 

“Well, we are, aren’t we? We knew you’d try to ambush us.”

The man glared at him. “You’re a real SOB, Kid.”

“Yeah, maybe I am. But I’d hate to be you when your boss finds out you failed in your ambush.”

The ride was continued in silence, the four men in front mad enough to sulk but not angry enough to try anything stupid. After a couple of hours they reached what appeared to be a small settlement. A series of huts had been placed alongside the trail. Like the others in the town, they were in various states of disrepair. 

A man came out and stood on the porch of one such building as they approached. Clark could see the man had scars down one side of his face. It looked almost as if his skin had melted. 

The four riders in front stopped and dismounted. The man on the porch glared at them. 

“Sorry boss,” the leader said. 

The scarred man nodded his head toward the doorway, waiting as the four men wrapped the reins around a hitching post in front of the cabin before going inside. Clark looked him over. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Bruce, with straw-coloured hair. He would have been handsome had it not been for the scar.

“So,” he began.

“You Dent?” Bruce asked, dismounting and standing with his horse.

“Who wants to know?” Dent replied with a sneer.

“I do.”

“Yeah? Who are you?”

“Name’s Wayne. Bruce Wayne. You used to work for Bill Earle at Wayne Enterprises.”

“Did I now? What of it?”

Clark watched as his partner confronted the other man. He’d clearly opted to play it fairly straight now they were facing Dent himself.

“Bill Earle is now in the custody of Gotham City Police. You, Mr Dent, are the only man alive who can provide proof that Earle hired a man named Joe Chill to murder my mother and father.”

The other man sneered. “Why should I help you?” he said. 

“I never said anything about you helping me, Dent. You can do this the easy way or the hard way. We don’t care which. Either way, you’re comin’ with us.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just order my men to kill you, Wayne?”

Clark stepped forward and glared at the other man. “You do and it’ll be a mistake,” he warned.

Dent smirked. “Not likely.”

The man was either stupid or crazy, Clark thought, if he didn’t recognise the threat. Dent again sneered at Bruce.

“Think I’m afraid of you, Wayne? I know your reputation. You ain’t never killed nobody.”

“There’s always a first time,” Bruce replied mildly. 

Clark looked at him, wondering if his partner was serious. Dent didn’t seem to be worried. 

“You’re outnumbered, Batman. I’ve got ten men willing to die for me. What have you got? A kid.”

“I’m no kid,” Clark told him. 

“We can hold our own,” his friend assured the other man. 

“How ‘bout we test that theory?” Dent replied. He nodded his head. Clark heard the sound of guns being cocked. He quickly realised they were surrounded. 

“Guess we’re doing this the hard way,” Bruce replied. “Clark?”

Clark was already speeding into action, taking out all the guns before the men could move, knocking them off balance. He dumped the weapons on the ground while Dent stared at him.

“Who … what …? How did you do that?”

“Told you I ain’t no kid.” The man stared at him then sighed in defeat. It hadn’t been much of a fight.

“Right, Dent. Let’s get moving. Back to Gotham.”

The fair-haired man shook his head. “Nope.”

“Told you before, you’re coming with us. Clark just took out all your men without even breaking a sweat.”

Clark could see the man was trying to think of a way out, but eventually he lost all bravado. Bruce led him to one of the horses and made him mount up. 

It was another half-day’s ride back to the bridge. Clark had expected trouble in the township itself but no one gave them any trouble as they passed through. He heard a few whispers but they were mostly about Dent. It sounded like the people were more afraid of the outlaw than they were of him and Bruce.

He remembered what Penguin had told them about Bill Earle’s assistant-turned-outlaw. Dent had been in Arkham Asylum which suggested to him the man wasn’t exactly playing with a full deck, as Oliver would have said. 

He had half-expected the other man to try something stupid, like escaping from them. It looked like his little demonstration of his abilities had been just the thing to show the man they were serious. 

He figured Bruce’s idea had been that if Dent had said something to Officer Bullock or any of the other police in Gotham about Clark’s abilities, it would be dismissed as the ravings of a lunatic. Dent’s men would hardly talk to the police either. 

They were able to make the city by nightfall and handed Dent over to Gotham Police. Tired from their day’s ride, they retired to the townhouse. Alfred greeted them warmly.

“Master Bruce, Master Clark, I am happy to see you have returned safely.”

Bruce smiled and clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Alfred. It all turned out to be rather anti-climactic. Dent surrendered with barely a fight.”

The old man smiled at his former charge. “Indeed. You know, Master Bruce, I rather think you enjoy being on the other side of the law. Perhaps you would consider becoming a police officer once you have done your duty to the governor.”

“Ah, perhaps, Alfred. Perhaps. In the meantime, would you please rustle up something to eat for us all. I can’t speak for Clark, but I am famished.”

Clark smiled at his partner. “I’m starving,” he said. 

“Good. Let’s sit by the fire,” Bruce replied, laying a gentle hand on his back. “Is there a paper today, Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce. I have it sitting by the armchair.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Clark is learning to read. I thought perhaps he would like to read the paper with me.”

“Splendid idea. I am sure you will do well, Master Clark. An education is a must for a gentleman.”

Clark couldn’t help grinning at the exchange. He was beginning to understand why Alfred had been chosen to stand in for Bruce’s mother and father on their deaths. The old man was obviously very fond of his partner.

***

Bruce was keen to retire early, not just because of Clark’s near-death experience. He had been thinking over everything that had happened the past few weeks. More and more, he was wishing they could both have normal lives. Or at least as normal as their respective abilities could allow. 

He knew that Clark’s powers meant that he would never really have what one would call a normal life. It was something that he had to accept. It didn’t mean, however, that they had to continue living a life on the run. Maybe he hadn’t chosen to work for Governor Gordon, but the older man’s offer had given him something he realised he never would have been able to do with Lex around.

A chance. A chance to live a long life, instead of the danger of being killed by a lawman. A chance to have all the things he and Clark had once dreamed of having.

He remembered a time when they had lain under the stars on a hot summer’s night. They must have been sent out on a job, he thought. Clark had been about fifteen or sixteen. They hadn’t been lovers then.

His partner had looked up at the stars and began pointing out the different shapes he could see.

“That one looks like a wolf,” he said. 

Bruce had followed the line as Clark had traced the shape and realised his friend was right. It did look like a wolf.

“There’s its eye,” Clark said. “One of them. I wonder where the other one is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there should be a star there, but it’s not. It’s just black.”

“Maybe it only ever had one eye.”

“Maybe.” Clark shrugged. He was quiet for a little while, then he rolled over onto his side, crooking his elbow and leaning his head on his hand. “Do you ever think about the future?”

“Sometimes,” Bruce said, rolling over to face his friend.

“You know what I want? I want to have a farm like Ma and Pa where we can grow all kinds of things. Like corn, and stuff. Maybe some apples too. I like apples.”

“You do, huh?”

“I’d have a big house and at night we’d sit out on the porch and look at the stars.”

“That sounds real nice, Clark.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Bruce looked up, the memory fading away. “Oh, just about something we talked about once.”

They had both undressed and got into bed but Bruce wasn’t sleepy. 

“Tell me,” Clark said.

“The night we laid under the stars and talked about the future,” he replied. “You still want that farm, Clark?”

His partner nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“I’m going to get you that farm some day. Even if we have to buy land by the manor. We’ll live in the big house together and you can farm the land. Plant anything you want. You’ll be a gentleman farmer.”

“And what will you be?” Clark asked.

“Whatever you want me to be,” he said. “I meant what I said, Clark. I don’t care what society thinks of us. You know how I feel. And feelings like that are never wrong.”

“I know.”

Bruce smiled at him. “C’mere.”

“What?” Clark was smiling as Bruce pulled him closer. He kissed him gently, his fingers lightly dancing over his face. 

“I used to hate it that we never had the time to take the time, you know?”

“I know.”

He wondered if that was why Clark had sometimes doubted his real feelings. The problem was that there had always been something in the way. Like there had been others in the gang always around, or like the night they’d stayed at the boarding house in Granville. Always conscious of someone overhearing. Or else they’d been on the run. The thought they could have been captured at any time had meant they had had to hurry any coupling. 

Bruce kissed him again, glad that he could finally show his partner everything he always wanted to. Clark responded in kind, clearly happy to follow his lead. He moaned softly as Bruce continued to kiss him, exploring his partner’s mouth with a gentle, unhurried ease.

Buttons were undone, hands cool on warm skin, bodies moving together as passion grew. Yet Bruce refused to hurry things along, wanting to savour every kiss, every touch. They had barely touched each other in days and he’d felt the loss deeply. None more so than the night he had feared he had lost everything, watching his beloved friend lying apparently lifeless in the darkness. 

Even then, however, it felt as if the mysterious connection he’d known had been there since the moment they’d met, had never been broken. It was the one thing that had convinced him that there was still hope. 

“Please,” Clark moaned, his mouth against his partner’s. “Bruce …” The rest of his plea was lost in his moans as Bruce took him in hand, wrapping his own hand around the hardening shaft, feeling it jerk in his grip. 

He pushed his partner onto his back before moving down the bed. Clark arched his body, his movements saying what he could not verbally. He murmured something Bruce couldn’t quite understand but it didn’t matter. The sounds he was making were sufficient.

Bruce slowly kissed his way down, pushing back the fabric still wrapped around his lover. Clark again shifted in the bed as he tongued the hard shaft, his movements still slow as he alternately sucked and licked. His lover grumbled with impatience, clearly ready for more. 

“Bruce!”

“I know, Kid.”

He resumed sucking, until Clark came with a cry. Bruce took the come in his mouth and coated his own shaft with it. He was about to use a finger to open up his partner’s hole, but the brunet shook his head. 

“Please,” he said. “No more. You know I don’t need it.”

Complying, Bruce pressed the tip of his shaft to Clark’s hole and pushed in. His lover once more arched his back, pushing his hips toward Bruce in an unspoken demand. Bruce thrust hard until he was fully seated inside his partner, then pulled back before thrusting in again. Clark gave a sigh that sounded like satisfaction, as if he had finally got what he wanted. 

They moved together, the only sounds in the room a series of grunts and moans as they urged each other on to completion. 

Afterward, Bruce lay on his back, his chest heaving with exertion. He still hadn’t gone as slow as he’d wanted yet this time felt different than all the other times. It was as if their lovemaking had bonded them more completely somehow. 

Once he’d recovered his breath, Bruce slowly rolled over to face his lover.

“One day, I’d like you to do the same to me.”

Clark looked at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Very sure. When you’re ready, though. I’m not going to push you into it. We have all the time in the world.”

The other man grinned. “Yeah, we do, don’t we?” He yawned sleepily. “I’m beat. Let’s get some sleep.”

They were woken early the next morning by a knock on the door. Alfred spoke quietly.

“Masters, Officer Bullock is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce called. “We’ll be down shortly.”

Clark blinked sleep out of his eyes before getting up and dressing at speed before Bruce had even had a chance to get out of the bed. He shot a mock glare at his partner.

“Show off,” he said.

A few minutes later, Bruce was downstairs facing Harvey Bullock. 

“Officer Bullock. You have some news for me?”

“Yes indeed,” the man said with a smile beneath his bushy beard. “Dent told us everything. He was working for Mr Earle when he was told to give a package to a man named Joe Chill. He eventually learned that in the package was five thousand dollars to kill you and your mother and father. After he killed Thomas and Martha, Chill went back to Dent and demanded more money to kill you.”

That wasn’t quite the story Bruce had heard but he couldn’t imagine Dent would lie about that since he really had nothing to lose. 

“What’s going to happen to Mr Earle?” Clark asked.

“He will be tried and if found guilty, he will face the hangman’s noose.” Bullock looked at them. “What will you do now, sirs?”

“We have work to do for the Governor and we will continue to do it until Governor Gordon sees fit to release us,” Bruce said. “Thank you, Officer Bullock. At least now my mother and father will get the justice they deserve.”

The officer took his leave. Bruce and Clark retired to the parlour after breakfast. The story on Dent’s capture was already in the morning newspaper, as was the arrest of Bill Earle. For Bruce, it felt as if it was really and truly over. In a year, he would be back where he belonged.

It was a shame that they could never really get justice for Clark’s folks, he thought. Morgan Edge had died by someone else’s hand and Lex had killed Lionel. 

There was still the little matter of discovering the truth behind Clark’s origins but it seemed his partner had no interest in pursuing the matter.

“It changes nothing,” Clark said. “I know who I am. I may not have been Martha and Jonathan’s flesh-and-blood son but regardless, they were my folks and I loved them.”

“But don’t you want to know, Clark? We could still go through Lionel’s diaries, see if he made mention of it.”

Clark shook his head. “Bruce, I don’t need to know more. I’m satisfied that we at least have the truth about how my folks died. And you have the truth about your family.” He looked away for a moment. “I told you what I want to do. It’s not just about having a farm, it’s about helping people. I was given these abilities for a reason and I don’t want to waste them.”

Bruce relented. “All right, Clark. I’ll say no more about it.”

Alfred came in. “There is a telegram for you, Master Bruce. From Governor Gordon.”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. They had sent a telegram to the governor the day before, telling him of both Bill Earle and Dent’s capture. He hadn’t expected a reply so soon. 

WILL BE IN GOTHAM TOMORROW. STOP. HAVE MUCH TO DISCUSS. STOP. J GORDON.

He spent the rest of the day and much of the evening helping Clark with his reading. He couldn’t help recalling how his partner had been initially reluctant to learn to read, claiming he didn’t need it. Much had changed in just a few short weeks. 

Governor Gordon duly arrived, offering his congratulations on the success of their mission.

“I have another mission for you,” he said as they talked in the parlour. “I believe you know Victor Fries.”

Bruce nodded. They had also informed Marshal White of Penguin’s presence in the Narrows, knowing the marshal would send men to investigate.

“I believe Mr Freeze has a major job planned. Word is he has been hiring every known outlaw in the mid-west. I want you two to go after him and stop him. Whatever the cost. I know you do not believe in killing but I am giving you carte blanche, gentlemen. Should it become necessary to kill Victor or any of his men in order to stop them, please do so with impunity.”

Bruce looked at Clark, who nodded. He turned back to the Governor.

“Yes sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad to see this story come to an end, but the final chapter felt like it really had come to an end. There is an epilogue to follow.


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen Months Later

Clark stood with one hand shading his eyes from the hot sun, the other on the handle of the spade he was leaning on. He looked over the ground with a sense of satisfaction. The earth had been furrowed and planted with all the crops he had chosen himself. 

He turned and glanced toward the manor. True to his word, Bruce had bid on and bought the land next to the manor, presenting the deed to Clark as a gift. 

Their tenure with Governor Gordon had ended six months earlier. They had been awarded full pardons after working for the man for the promised year. The remaining members of their old gang had been rounded up and were either imprisoned or had been executed for their crimes. 

The only one who still hadn’t faced the noose was Lex Luthor himself. Luthor had somehow managed to escape and was at large somewhere in Central or South America at last report. While they had been convinced Lefty would come after them once again, they were pleasantly surprised to discover he had decided to hightail it elsewhere.

Clark had no doubt they would some day find him and make sure he at last paid for all his crimes. In the meantime, he was happy helping the people of Gotham, and sometimes Metropolis, between working on the farmland he held so dear. 

There were times when he thought about pursuing the clues he had about his past but it didn’t really bother him. He had the truth about how he came to be in Lionel’s gang and that was really all that mattered. He had fulfilled his promise to Bruce and used his abilities to help people. He was happy with his life here with Bruce. He finally had a real home and someone to come home to.

The people in Gotham had already given him a new name. He had been careful never to show his face but they had still showed their gratitude by naming him the Knight of Gotham. Bruce had been amused when he had heard the name. Even more so when his own persona had been nicknamed the Dark Knight of Gotham. He had chosen to wear a mask of sorts, his attire black as night. 

A sound of wheels squeaking attracted his attention and he looked up, grinning as he realised who was in the approaching carriage. He dropped his tools and ran for the carriage, waiting impatiently for it to stop before opening the door.

Lois Lane-Queen handed him a basket.

“Don’t drop it,” she warned as she got out, her tone suggesting fire and brimstone if he did such a thing.

“As if he would,” Chloe replied.

Clark looked down at the basket and smiled at the tiny infant. Baby Jonas had been born just two months earlier. 

Oliver followed his wife out of the carriage. Chloe, heavy with child, waited for her husband to help her out. Jimmy took the blonde’s hand and held her steady as she alighted, huffing slightly.

Bruce appeared beside Clark, smiling at their guests. He shook Oliver’s hand and kissed Lois on the cheek. 

“Welcome to Wayne Manor,” he said. 

“See, Kent. That’s how you greet a person.”

“You didn’t give me a chance, Lois,” he replied in protest. The brunette just snorted. 

Bruce grinned at them. “When you’ve had a chance to rest from the journey, Mrs Dawes will rustle up something to eat.”

“Finally,” Oliver complained. “I can get some decent food!”

Lois shot her husband a filthy look. “Keep that up, Ollie, and we won’t be sharing a bed tonight.”

“I’m already sharing with the baby,” he grumbled, then quickly changed his mind at his wife’s disgruntled look. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added. 

“You better not. Give me that basket, Kent. I don’t trust you!”

Clark sighed and handed the baby back to his mother, watching as Lois went into the manor, followed by Chloe. Jimmy sighed and canted his head.

“Women,” he said. “Lois has been cranky since before Jonas was born.”

Oliver put an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “That’ll be what you’ll have to put up with in about a month or so.”

Jimmy shot him a glare. “Yeah, thanks. I’m already in Chloe’s bad books.”

Bruce looked at the former deputy marshal. Jimmy had resigned his post when he and Chloe had decided to marry, opting to work on the ranch instead. Oliver had also given up his gambling ways to help take care of the ranch. He’d quietly confessed at the wedding that Lois had put her foot down and told him it was either her or the tables.

“What happened?” Bruce asked Jimmy.

“I said something about the size of her caboose,” he admitted. “If looks could kill, or, well, if she had Clark’s heat thingy, I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, word of advice there, son,” Oliver replied with a grin. “Don’t ever mention your lady’s caboose. I still have the bruises from when I made that mistake.”

The men laughed. Clark hung back, watching as his lover and best friend began walking with the other two men into the manor. Bruce noticed he wasn’t with them and looked around.

“You coming, Clark?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Bruce reached out a hand and put an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Kid,” he said with a smile.


End file.
